Beyond World's End
by Ecri
Summary: Chapter 11! STORY COMPLETE! is here! I've also fixed the formatting problems! AWE. AU. Will/Elizabeth. We learn a bit more about Jack's background.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This is a story based on At World's End, a film I found unsatisfying. I'd have forgiven everything if Will and Elizabeth had ended up truly together at the end, but as they really didn't, and Elizabeth was doomed to spend her life alone, seeing Will maybe 4 to 6 times before dying of old age and leaving Will to live for all eternity remembering the less than a week of married life he had enjoyed…and outliving a son he could never know…well…that just stinks.

So…I wanted to rewrite it. Problem was that the original is so chaotic, that things just got more and more complicated. I've solved what I could, but maybe one day, I'll take another crack at it and pare down the supernatural. For now, though, this is what I came up with.

Please review. I'm not above begging.

Beyond World's End by Ecri

It was a good day, Beckett decided as he stared at the bag Norrington had brought to him knowing what was inside and savoring the moment when he was so near to achieving all that he desired. It mattered little that it was Norrington and not Turner or Swann who brought this to him. If anything, Norrington would be useful; an added benefit. Norrington would be reinstated, perhaps promoted, and he would owe this to Beckett. He allowed himself a ghost of a smile. The pieces were now all in place. He could begin the game in earnest.

His memory tossed some moments to him...moments of past betrayals and he relished each one. He had managed to achieve a great deal and he had never himself been betrayed. No, the role of betrayer was one he assumed all too well. It was as much a game as his machinations, to find the chink in the armor, the one thing he could hold over another person. Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann had been simple. All you had to do to control one was threaten the other. It was hardly worth his effort. Norrington had been slightly better. His pride had been his downfall.

Sparrow...ah, Sparrow had been a tough nut to crack for much the same reason the compass rarely worked for him. His wants changed with the wind. You never did know just what he would care about, and oddly, neither did he. That was why the Captain was so often frustrated.

Beckett brought his eyes up to meet Norrington's. "I will dispatch a letter to London immediately reinstating your commission and promoting you to Admiral."

Norrington's shock almost showed upon his face, but the man was a trained British Officer, and was certainly up to the task of appearing stoic and unshakable.

Beckett continued, allowing the smallest of smirks to cross his face so Norrington would be aware that he had seen the brief moment before the Admiral's stoic mask had slipped into place. "You will command the _Endeavor_ for me, James, and together we will rid the world of pirates."

Yes, Norrington was easy, for his desire to eradicate the pirates would blind him to the method until it was all over. Once that was done, Norrington might well fall apart...the guilt would be too much for him. Especially once he realized that Swann and Turner, thanks to their strange loyalty to Sparrow, would find their lives forfeit as well. Yes, for a good man like Norrington, what Beckett was about to do could only cause guilt.

It was, Beckett thought, a very good day, indeed.

**

Will stared at Elizabeth noting that, though her toast claimed Jack was a good man, she'd been unable to drink to that. _I've lost her. _What else could he think after seeing that kiss? He wracked his brain to discover when he had lost her...what he had done or had not done...to determine if the love she'd said she felt for him had been a lie. _She loves Jack_. The realization hit him hard. His heart had been hers from the moment they'd met. He had loved her, worried over her, and lived to see a glimpse of her smile. She was nowhere close to smiling now, and even in his own torment, realizing that she loved another, he could not bear to see her so distraught. He rose, taking a hesitant half step to her speaking as if they were alone and there was no distance, physical or emotional, between them. "If anything could be done to bring him back... Elizabeth..."

Tia Dalma's voice rang our loudly bringing the attention of everyone to her. "Would you do it? Hmmm? What... would you? Hmmm? What would *any* of you be willing to do? Hmmm? Would you sail to the ends of the eart', and beyond to fetch back witty Jack and 'im precious Pearl?"

Will kept his eyes on Elizabeth. He heard the others agreeing wholeheartedly and without hesitation...an odd thing among pirates...to save Jack. When Elizabeth added her own small, tearful "yes," Tia Dalma's gaze fell on him. He agreed immediately. His goal was Elizabeth's happiness. It had always been and would always be, even if her happiness was his sorrow. "Aye," he said staring now at Tia Dalma, who seemed to recognize the pain in his eyes, though she did not mention it.

Tia Dalma smiled. "Alright. But if you're goin' brave de weird, and haunted shores, at world's end, den... you will need a captain who knows dose waters." She turned, her eyes blazing with some knowledge and purpose Will could not name. He turned confused eyes in the direction of the stairs, and beheld a dead man walking.

"So tell me, what's become of my ship?" Barbossa laughed as he took a bite of an apple and Jack the monkey raced to perch upon his shoulder.

Will turned to Tia Dalma. "How is this possible?"

"Many tings be possible for de right reasons, Will Turner."

"Reason did not bring him back from the dead." He faced Barbossa. "Why should we follow you?"

Barbossa's smile did not slip as he closed the distance between himself and Will. "We have a common goal, lad, and I be going on this voyage with ye or alone."

Will's eyes narrowed for a moment and he stepped closer still to the man who had once tried to kill him and Elizabeth...and Jack. They widened then and his deep brown eyes held fast to Barbossa's as if he tried to read the thoughts behind the other mans less lustrous eyes. His voice was a whisper. "You tried to kill Jack. You tried to kill all of us. Why would you want to bring him back now?"

Barbossa glanced to Tia Dalma, then shrugged and physically tore himself away from Will, putting distance between them. "Jack and I have business to attend to."

Will would have pursued this further, but Tia Dalma prevented it. "Dis is no easy task. Plannin' is required. You have what 'elp I can give you, but know dis; World's End is troubled water and the way to get there, let alone to travel through and find 'im you seek will be treacherous." She crossed to a table and opened a book. It contained charts and notes but Will could make no sense of it. "Dis is yours, Captain." She handed the tome to Barbossa and Will thought he could sense an unspoken exchange between the two. Things were fast growing out of control and he was beginning to feel as he had when Jack persuaded him to do something he didn't want to do...like visit the _Flying Dutchman_ on his behalf.

In moments, plans were being made and Gibbs was talking to Barbossa, deferring to the man as his captain. Everyone spoke at once, and Will felt he was in the eye of some maelstrom. Even Elizabeth seemed to hang on Barbossa's words, desperation to save Jack forcing her to accept him as her captain.

"We have no ship." Will said just loud enough to cut through the cacophony of words.

"I will supply dat." Tia Dalma whispered, smiling her blackened-tooth smile.

Will wondered at this. How did Tia Dalma have access to a ship that would suit their purposes? Was it possible she was wealthy? He shook his head, unable to come to any satisfactory explanation, and his gaze was drawn once again to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth would not look him in the eye, and when he moved to catch her arm, she sidestepped him and followed the crew and Barbossa out to the dinghies in which they'd arrived. He wanted to speak to her. He _needed_ to speak to her. Words unuttered jammed his throat making a lump he could neither swallow nor ignore. He tried to maneuver himself to sit in the same dinghy with her, but found himself instead next to Tia Dalma. She smiled at him and her attentions reminded Will of their first meeting. Jack had been quick enough to step between Tia Dalma and himself at the time, as though he believed the woman's interest was precursor to some undesirable end. As usual, Jack never explained, though even if he had, Will doubted it would have been the entire truth.

At the time, as they'd made their way to see the voodoo priestess, Will had wondered who Jack needed to see and worried that they wasted time. His thoughts had centered on Elizabeth in a cell in Port Royal and to find he was in some backwater shack with a small woman whom Jack knew yet who hadn't slapped him on sight failed to make an impression at the time.

Jack had known her though. They'd greeted each other like old friends, and she hadn't reached for some weapon with which to kill him.

"Jack Sparrow!" Tia Dalma called, smiling happily.

"Tia Dalma!" Jack returned.

"I always know de wind was goin' blow you back to me one day." Then she'd seen Will, and had approached him a look in her eyes much like the one she'd worn since they'd climbed into these dinghies to make their way to the ship she would provide. It seemed almost feral, seductive, and even a touch disturbing as Will realized that Tia Dalma, much like Jack Sparrow, had a hidden agenda.

**"**You. You have a touch of... destiny about *you*, William Turner."

Will had been confused once more, and realized that was his natural state when traveling with Jack Sparrow. "You know me?"

"You want to know *me*." The way she'd said it was so full of confidence, of certain knowledge...but he could not think what she meant, nor did he have time to ask as Jack interrupted, placing himself somehow between them as some sort of barrier.

"There'll be no knowing here. We've come for help and we're not leaving without it." Then, almost an afterthought, he whispered to her. "I thought *I* knew you.

**"**Not so well as I had hoped. Come."

What, Will wondered, had any of that meant, and why was she so interested in him now? What destiny could she possibly believe touched him? He shook off the thoughts and did his best to ignore her presence as his eyes sought Elizabeth. She was in the next dinghy and her eyes were downcast, tears brimming in them, though when she sensed him staring, she dashed a hand across her face and pretended they hadn't been there.

Tia Dalma's ship was not far, and by morning they were ready to make way. Before they could shove off, however, Will wanted to make one thing clear. "No secrets, Barbossa." He stood his ground, head raised and eyes blazing in determination. "You will tell us all what the plan is and we will decide how best to bring it about."

Barbossa met determination with fury. "That's not how it works, boy!"

Will would not be intimidated. He'd long ago moved past that. "That's how _this_ works. We're in this together for the 'common goal' of bringing Jack back."

Barbossa was about to argue, his hand slipping to his sword hilt, when Tia Dalma intervened. "We sail for Singapore. There rest the charts we goin' need for dis journey. The maps showin' World's End."

"You speak in riddles. How can a map show World'd End?" Elizabeth demanded, and Will was glad of it, for she hadn't spoken since she'd agreed to go and search for Jack.

Tia Dalma's eyes blazed. "De world is not all you see. You should know dat by now. Dere be many tings you do not understand, and many dat would frighten even one such as you who 'as seen de undead and 'as faced de _Flying Dutchman_."

Will stepped between the two, not liking the threat in Tia Dalma's eyes and tone. He would play his role as Elizabeth's protector because without that self-appointed task, he wasn't sure who he was. "We sail for Singapore...and then what?"

The plan was simple, and yet risky beyond belief. They discussed and adjusted details as they made their way to Singapore, and Will wondered what he was doing. There was more going on here than just a rescue. Why would Tia Dalma and Captain Barbossa try to save Jack? For that matter, why was the crew so willing? They had demonstrated before that they could stick to the code and leave their mates behind with hardly a thought. Was this loyalty to Jack, or was there something else going on here?

His eyes fell on Tia Dalma, and his uneasiness grew. He had never believed in witchcraft, but perhaps she held some sway on the crew. To get what she most wanted, had she cast some spell so they would think they wanted the same? Did she have that kind of power? She noticed his gaze and came to his side, smiling charmingly. "A touch of destiny about you, William Turner."

He smiled though it did not reach his eyes. "So you've said, though I don't know what you mean."

"You 'ave a destiny...one that is bigger den you imagine."

"I..._imagine_...that's true of a lot of people."

She shook her head. "Very few. Jack Sparrow knew it when 'im meet you. 'im know who you are."

Will would not be convinced. "I am of little consequence to Jack. Or to you."

"Do not say such tings, William Turner. You are more important den you tink."

"Since we met, I've felt you want something from me. What is it?"

She smiled at him and rested a hand on his cheek, caressing it sadly, and Will felt something stir within him. "Now is not de time. It be 'ere soon enough. If I 'ad but met you years ago...tings might be different."

He caught her wrist as she moved to caress him again, and he shook his head as though to clear it from some fog. "Whatever it is you think of me or my destiny, I have but one goal here."

She laughed then, taking her hand from him. "You sure of dat, Mr. Turner?" She laughed heartily as she strolled away.

**

Caribbean nights seemed long and otherwordly compared to London. Lit by the brilliant moon and the scattering of stars, scented with blossoms and salt air, alive with the sound of the surf lapping at the white sands, there was a certain moment of the night that seemed magic; that led one to assume anything was possible. Daylight would chase the euphoria away, but night fed it and groomed it and made promises with it.

Port Royal stood proud and beautiful, a glittering gem among the blue waters of the Caribbean. The waves lapped lazily upon moonlit sands, and the salt tinge to the air clung to noses and lips. It was a happier place than London.

Weatherby Swann had hoped it would be as he'd pictured it all those years ago, when, grieving for his lost wife, he thought taking the post in the Caribbean would cheer his daughter. It wasn't until halfway through the voyage that he'd begun to wonder if ripping Elizabeth from the only home she'd ever known had been a less than prudent idea. He'd watched her carefully for the rest of the trip for some sign of melancholy or worse.

Elizabeth had surprised him, however, dispelling his fears and embracing life in the Caribbean with perhaps more gusto than Society might approve. He'd given her latitude in respect for her own grief, and knowing that he could offer her little guidance, as her mother would have, in the proper behavior of young ladies in British Society. He'd had her schooled and trained, of course. There were several good families in the Caribbean; solid, dependable, Britons who loved Queen and Country and had brought as much of the homeland with them as it was possible to transplant so many miles away. They didn't lack for a good cup of tea, though he would reluctantly admit that drinking it was sometimes difficult in the warmest months.

Even with these homey comforts, Elizabeth would insist on running everywhere when she was a young girl. She would read about pirates and ask about them every chance she got. At balls and parades and commemorative galas, she would seek out the newest arrival and demand to know if they'd run into pirates on the way to Port Royal, or if they'd heard any tales on their voyage. Even if they had no answers for her, she would plead for speculation until many of the partygoers were making up the most ludicrous adventures just to see the precocious child laugh and clap her hands in delight.

This had changed but gradually. Eventually Elizabeth took her position as the Lady of the Governor's Mansion seriously, and began to dote on her father, planning menus and parties as propriety demanded, and becoming a charming hostess. The parties and balls and fetes at the Governor's Mansion became events not to be missed. The Social Calendar of Port Royal had gained much when Elizabeth became involved. No detail was forgotten. No guest was overlooked. To be invited at all was considered an indication of one's importance. To refuse was unheard of.

He could recall with perfect clarity the first event she'd planned. She'd worried and fretted over every detail. The guest list was done weeks ahead of time. The invitations she hand-lettered herself. The menu was discussed and rearranged until the cook had nearly quit, but in the end, it had been a sumptuous affair. The decorations, the tables laden with food, and Elizabeth, in her most formal gown shipped from Paris expressly for the occasion…the guests had been amazed, stunned that such a young girl, all of 14, had managed it all and had outshone young women many years older.

He had been so proud of her. He'd basked in the praise as if it were his own. The families of several young men had come to him that night requesting permission to court her, but whether because she was his only child, or because they both still felt the loss of his wife so keenly, he had declined, insisting she must be sixteen at the least before he'd consider any suitor.

When the time had come to admit that his daughter must one day take a husband, she had refused to permit any of the finest lads to court her. He realized now just why that was. She'd lost her heart to William Turner before they'd ever set foot in Port Royal. He considered that. The cabin boy, for at the time, that's what he'd assumed Will Turner to be. What had she seen in that bedraggled, half-drowned, half-starved waif?

He considered that it was that he'd been shipwrecked and in need of care and attention. Girls had a motherly instinct even at the youngest of ages. Weatherby Swann recalled Elizabeth mothering a poor, half-dead cat when she'd been no more than two-years-old.

Perhaps that had been it. When, he wondered, had Will Turner begun to reciprocate those feelings? He suspected it was fairly early on. The boy had come to his senses a day or two after being fished from the sea like so much debris, and once he was up and about, he was rarely far from Elizabeth. Will, however, had a sense of his place. He did not overstep his bounds, even at Elizabeth's most ardent coaxing unless she managed to cajole him at a particularly weak moment. He'd overheard them speaking once, and though at first it was accidental, he'd taken full advantage of the situation and eavesdropped with the long-practice of a courtier.

"You're so sad, Will."

"I'm homesick, Miss Swann."

"Elizabeth," she'd insisted, though Weatherby had been gratified when the boy hadn't given in.

"Miss Elizabeth Swann," the boy corrected himself.

"Why are you homesick," Elizabeth asked, apparently unwilling to go back and forth over the proper way to address her. "Aren't you excited to be starting a new life in Port Royal?"

The boy was silent for a moment, and Weatherby had to strain to hear his reply so softly was it whispered. "I miss my mum."

"Y-your mum?" Elizabeth's voice had quivered and Weatherby almost left the secluded alcove where he listened to scoop her into his arms and cuddle her until neither of them hurt again.

"She died." Will confessed.

"Mine, too."

When Weatherby risked a peek, they were sitting silently staring at the sea and holding hands. Elizabeth broke the silence first. "Why did you decide to go to Port Royal?"

Weatheby himself had wondered how the boy had managed it.

"My mum told me just before she died to find my father. He's a merchant sailor out of the Caribbean."

"Are you to become a merchant sailor, too?" Her love of pirates seemed to make this an almost romantic notion.

The boy only shrugged. "I don't know what choice I'll have about it one way or the other."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not apprenticed. If I can't find my father, I wont be able to afford an apprenticeship at all. I have no money. I lost what little I had aboard the ship."

"You could join the Royal Navy."

"Don't know that they'd have me."

"Of course they will!"

Weatherby Swann had left them then as Elizabeth resumed the role of confidant and comforter. That was when he'd decided to make things right for the boy. HIs heart went out to Turner. He'd lost his mother. Just like Elizabeth. What, he wondered, would Elizabeth have done if she'd lost her mother and father? What if she had not been born to privilege? Where--how--would she have ended up?

The Governor sighed heavily bringing himself out of these memories with a great effort. Elizabeth was his life and her absence was like a knife through his heart. Where could she be? He could only hope she still lived. He was calmed, however minutely, by the thought that Will Turner, whatever his many faults, would protect her with his life. Of course, that would require that they find each other. He smiled at the thought. Even with a world between them, somehow, he was perfectly confident that those two would do just that.

He turned from the window and his study of the idyllic scene Port Royal presented and returned to his desk. Beckett kept him busy, though Swann was no fool. His days were numbered. Beckett would not keep him around forever. He needed to come up with...what had Elizabeth called it? Ah, yes. Leverage. What could he possibly have to offer a man like Beckett, who, by all appearances, seemed somehow to command Norrington's allegiance. Thought, from what little he knew of Norrington, it seemed it was more an allegiance to duty than to Beckett himself. Never a gregarious man, nor demonstrative, but rather an upstanding proper British Commodore, Norrington's promotion to admiral from the depths to which the man had sunk had surprised everyone. Swann himself had been no exception, but he knew the look he'd seen in Norrington's eyes. Norrington was a man who'd given his life to the Navy, and he was only now beginning to realize the cost.

Swann dismissed the thoughts. He must think of something good enough to procure Elizabeth's freedom. That was his priority. James Norrington's career was irrelevant. Will Turner's fate was out of his hands, and frankly, not his concern. He would whisk Elizabeth off to London and she would find a proper suitor there, settle into London society, and perhaps one day, she would marry a Lord. First, however, he had to find her. The only way to do that, he realized, was to leave Port Royal.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I forgot to put in a disclaimer. I am making no money from this. It is for entertainment only.

I'm not sure how long this will be. I'm working out the details. Please review. I write faster when I know someone's reading.

Beyond World's End

Chapter 2

By Ecri

Admiral James Norrington stared out across the clear, blue water. He had once again left Port Royal far behind him, but no matter how hard he tried, there were some things that he could not leave behind. It was ironic. He had suddenly achieved all he had ever hoped to achieve, and yet…and yet…

There was no sense of achievement. When he had been promoted to Commodore, he had felt something. A culmination of talent and effort had brought him to that moment. His career had meant something to him then because he had approached it, as he had all endeavors in his life, with honor, with determination, and with confidence. Things had changed.

His admiralty had been bought. He had not achieved it. He had not worked steadfastly toward it. It had not been the justifiable reward for long years of service. He had bought it. Paid for it. Perhaps not with money, but the coin of the realm wasn't the only currency accepted in such transactions. Favors, contraband, marriages, he'd known men who had used such things to advance their careers, and he had always looked upon them with a mixture of pity and disdain. Never, he had long ago vowed, would he stoop to such levels.

It wasn't until he first dressed in his new uniform, the gold braid, the crisp, clean lines, the scabbard and sword. His sword…a sword Beckett had returned to him, but which Governor Swann had first given to him, one Will Turner had made.

Perhaps it was the sword and not the uniform that had placed the sour knot in his stomach and the crushing weight where his heart should be. Perhaps it was the realization that he had abandoned Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann to the mercies and vagaries of chance in order to gain…what? Respect? Rank? He shook his head. He had gained nothing. His admiralty left a bitter taste in his mouth and the weight of failure on his shoulders. He had failed. In bargaining for his rank, his livelihood, his chance to rise from the depths to which he'd sunk while pursuing Jack Sparrow, he had traded not just the inhuman, cursed heart of a monster, but his very ideals, honor, self-respect, and dignity. He blinked rapidly to dispel the heavy weight of water from his eyes willing the drops away. He would not lose whatever scrap of dignity he had managed to maintain by giving in to tears.

Unconsciously, he tugged at the bottom of his jacket, straightening imaginary creases. He was an admiral, and however he'd managed to gain the uniform he would not disgrace it now. He did his best to ignore the faint, but nagging whisper in the back of his mind that claimed wearing the uniform disgraced it. How could it be otherwise since he had not earned it?

He forced the thought away. Wallowing in self-pity would not help.

What would?

He considered the thought. What options did he have? Could he set right what he had done wrong? If a path, once chosen, were abandoned, could a better path, the right path, be regained?

There was much to rectify. It was almost overwhelming to consider it all. Where to begin? The answer was obvious.

Will and Elizabeth.

Resolve hardened his features, and though he could not know it, the newest Admiral of the British Navy looked more like the Commodore he'd once been.

**

Weatherby Swann missed Port Royal, but leaving was necessary if he had any hope to set his own, admittedly feeble, plans in motion. Why Beckett had insisted on departing in such haste aboard the _Endeavor_, he could not guess. If the man had plans he was reticent to share them. Norrington's ship had barely been in port long enough to obtain supplies before Beckett was ordering them out again, this time, aside from Swann, he'd insisted on bringing that…_thing_. The very presence aboard ship of that monstrous item turned Swann's stomach.

The same brilliant moon that painted Port Royal with magic and romance lit the ship, but here on the open sea, it seemed forbidding and sinister. Swann could not say if it were just because he knew a disembodied heart rested aboard or if it were his own nefarious purpose that tainted the idyllic Caribbean evening with more than a hint of the macabre.

Swann had been unable to find anything in Beckett's office in Port

Royal, and since the man had taken to the sea, Swann had not had the chance to search his cabin. As Beckett consulted with Jones aboard the _Dutchman,_ the chance had now presented itself.

Silently, he crept to Beckett's quarters. He began by searching the

desk, but found nothing of interest. His eyes had avoided the safe that held the bag...that awful cursed bag, that held the still-beating heart…but he could no longer ignore it. He knelt before it and, having carefully observed Beckett opening it the day before, he easily opened it. The thing repulsed him, but it could be all the leverage he would need. He could order Jones to find his daughter, return her to him and then he could destroy the heart. He knew little of it and the curse that made the thing beat and pulse when it should be dead and decaying, but he knew no good could come of it. He slipped the ties of the bag onto his belt and continued his search. He still needed to find a way to absolve Elizabeth of the crimes Beckett held over her head.

He moved to the bookshelf, methodically pulling out each book, inspecting the spine, and shaking out the leaves to see if any notes or such fell out. When that proved fruitless, he searched through the mapmaker's notes. Frustration crept up on him each time he failed to find something, anything, incriminating.

Desperate to prove his search wasn't wasted, he knelt on the floor and began knocking on floorboards hoping to find some secret cache of information. After twenty minutes, his knees screamed for mercy and his knuckles were numb. He sat back on his heels wondering where to search next when he felt the kiss of cold steel on the back of his neck. He held his breath daring not even to turn around to see who had caught him.

"Swann, you show very little imagination for a man of your position."

"I dropped a ring of some value..."

"And you thought perhaps it might have slipped beneath my floorboards?"

Swann laughed, but there was more of nervousness in it than humor. Cautiously, he shifted his weight and moved to stand, his knees stiff and

yet wobbly at the same time. Beckett did not move to stop him. "Stranger things have happened. I've looked in all likely places. It was time to move on to the unlikely."

Beckett allowed Swann to put some distance between them and Swann breathed a bit easier for it.

"Come now," Swann began with false bravado. "Come have a drink with me." He forced a joviality he did not feel into his tone.

"I think not." Beckett replied.

Swann's face fell. For the second time in his life, he understood that he was not in control of the situation. Beckett underscored that by bringing the sword to bear. "What are you doing?" Swann asked, his hand slipping toward the bag at his belt.

"I am ridding myself of the nuisance of your company."

"Ah," Swann whispered, and in perfect mimicry of Beckett's earlier words, he added, "I think not." The bag containing the heart was in his left hand, and he ignored his urge to fling it far from him, instead slipping a knife from his pocket and holding it above the horrendous thing.

Beckett smiled. "You do realize what you propose to do?"

"Rid the world of at least one evil and rob you of your control over

it!" Swann's raised his voice in triumph.

"No. You propose to take the captaincy of the _Flying Dutchman_ for

yourself."

"I...what?" Swann felt the color drain from his face, certain he was paler now than even when he had first arrived in Port Royal from London.

"The _Dutchman_ must have a captain. Whoever stabs the heart must place

his own heart in the chest...or bag, as the case may be...and take on the responsibility. You volunteer for immortality, sailing the seas for all eternity."

The bag slipped from his hand, spilling the heart onto the deck, and Swann could only stare at it as it continued to beat.

Beckett stepped forward, and as easily as if he were slipping his sword into it's sheath, he slipped it instead through Weatherby Swann.

Beckett's tone turned venomous. "You will not destroy my plans. They have been too long in coming."

The former Governor, looking more surprised than anything else, saw the sword hilt sticking out from his chest. Swann felt his life leak away. He could find neither words nor breath to speak them, but his last thought were of his daughter.

**

They were well on their way to Singapore. The winds had been kind, though they had all but disappeared earlier in the day. The sails hung almost uselessly, and Barbossa had ordered them down. Elizabeth sat on deck staring at the stars. She felt she should have been excited beyond belief. Sailing to Singapore to see the Pirate Lord Sao Feng...it sounded adventurous, romantic...and yet, she was empty. No, that wasn't right. Something filled her. Anxiety over what she'd done, fear of the memory of her deeds, and an inability to live with them...now she knew, no matter what Jack Sparrow had said to her, she was no pirate. A real pirate would feel no remorse at securing survival even if the cost were a friend's life. She cringed from the very thought. She could not forget what she had done, nor could she ever forgive herself. She sailed now to free him hoping for absolution, but even if Jack readily gave it, she did not see how it could erase what she had done or help her to live with it.

She knew that Will sensed something was wrong, and hoped he thought it was just sorrow at a friend's death...the noble sacrifice she'd invented as Jack Sparrow's last deed...she thought it fitting at the time. So many of the legends of Captain Jack Sparrow seemed to be little more than exaggerations to tell a good tale. Fitting that his last legend was as much a lie as the sea turtles.

And yet…

She was lying to herself as well. She'd considered telling Will what had happened, but it was her burden. He could not be told. What if he thought less of her? What if he found he could not marry a woman who turned out to be a murderer? That was what she was. Will was the noblest man she'd ever met. Murder was surely something he could not forgive, and she could not risk that. She stopped her thoughts as realization hit her like a lightning bolt. Marrying Will was what she wanted. What she had _always_ wanted. She probed her memory. She had been attracted to the idea of a life as a pirate, but never had she truly considered a life without Will Turner at her side. Even when she'd fantasized about perhaps joining Jack's crew, the pictures in her mind's eye had always included Will Turner swashbuckling by her side. She'd been enamored of Pirate tales and legend from an early age and had listened to tales from any who would tell them. Gibbs had obliged her when she'd been a child, when he'd served under Norrington. She'd learned from others as well. Many sailors had been willing to answer her questions knowing she was the Governor's daughter and she'd taken full advantage of that, learning the Pirate's code, and any legend anyone saw fit to tell her.

She had loved the life...the hint of freedom that Piracy and Jack Sparrow promised. She saw it now. Had known it in her heart, but her grief over what she'd done to Jack had blinded her. She loved Will. She had _always_ loved Will. She _would _always love Will. She rose from the deck, her only thought to find Will and confess everything. Together, they could get through anything. Why had she doubted that? Why had she doubted his ability to forgive her?

The ship was quiet at this hour. It didn't feel like the _Pearl_. The sounds it made weren't like the sounds of the _Pearl_. She'd never given it much thought, but the _Pearl_ had a unique feel to her. She tried not to think that she'd destroyed that as well when she'd left Jack to the Kraken.

She slipped below deck and headed towards Will's bunk, but stopped in her tracks at what she saw. Tia Dalma stood over Will. One hand rested lightly over Will's heart and the other caressed his cheek. Elizabeth's possessiveness flared and she took a hurried step toward him, but stopped herself. Perhaps Will had also made a choice. She looked more intently at the pair. Tia Dalma was smiling, though Will was not. She craned her neck to see his eyes. Will's eyes could hold no secrets. His heart was always in them. She moved then to get a better view, but in that moment, Will seemed to jerk awake sitting up and staring at Tia Dalma.

Confusion was painted in broad strokes across his face, his eyes still somewhat clouded and unfocused. "What..."

"Hush now, William Turner." The woman instructed him.

"What are you doing?"

She still hadn't moved her hand from his chest, though the other no longer touched his cheek.

"Not a t'ing, boy. Not a t'ing. I..."

Will shook off her touch and leaped to his feet. He looked her in the eye, but pulled back and looked away as though not liking what he saw there. "I...have to go." She touched him again then, her hand once more on his heart, and then she moved in closer to him. He backed away, but there was nowhere for him to go. She looked deeply into his eyes, and she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. Elizabeth expected him to move away, to push her away, but instead, he allowed the kiss. He more than allowed it. A second later, he was returning it.

Elizabeth turned and fled racing back above deck and gulping greedily at the air as though she'd been deprived of oxygen.

**

Below deck, Tia Dalma released Will and her gaze followed the retreating form of Elizabeth Swann, a smile teased the corners of her mouth. As she did so, Will, still unaware of Elizabeth's fleeting presence, took a step back and placed a hand on his head. He swayed as though dizzy. Tia Dalma reached out a hand to steady him. "You take a bad step, Mr. Turner?"

"I...I don't know...I was...sleeping..." His hand moved to his head again, and he shook it. "I..." he looked toward the stairs leading above deck. "...need some air."

"What you need, Mr. Turner, is to sleep." She took his hand and led him back to his bunk.

He shook his head even as he fell into his bed. His bewilderment was still plain upon his face and prominent in his voice. "No, I..."

"Shhh...just sleep." As he fell into a deep sleep, she smiled and whispered more to herself than to him. "Aye, it be a touch of destiny, William Turner."

**

Days had turned to weeks, and Will had yet to speak to Elizabeth. He wondered at her ability to avoid him. She'd kept him at bay all this time. Truly, he had not felt himself on this voyage. His sleep was disturbed, and the one he wished desperately to speak to would not give him a moment. He wished he could speak to her of his plans. He had thought of nothing but his promise to his father since he'd left the _Flying Dutchman_. His father lived a life of unending servitude, and Will had vowed to see him free one day. Whether that meant free to spend time with Will or free to continue in a life at sea was not his concern. He wanted to speak to Elizabeth of it, to explain everything, but he could not if she would not.

No matter how he thought of it, the only answer was that she loved Jack and couldn't face telling him. No other reason could he see for her avoiding him. It broke his heart to consider a life without her. She had been all he'd dreamed of since they'd met. He had kept carefully apart from her, forever reminded of his station. He could not have hoped to win the love of the Governor's daughter, and yet…a pirate had done so. A pirate. It was almost beyond belief.

He could think of no alternative for himself, however. If she would not have him, then once she and Jack were reunited, he would have to find some other life. He could not return to Port Royal. Aside from the fact that, as far as he knew, there was still the matter of a death sentence hanging over his head, he could not face her father with news that his daughter had become a pirate, and he could not face a life Port Royal without her presence.

He could become a pirate himself, but serving with Jack Sparrow and Elizabeth would be too painful. He could not imagine serving with another crew on another ship. Perhaps he could find passage to some other land…not England or Europe, but perhaps America or Africa or India…he put the thought from him. This was not the time for such plans. There were only two objectives now; rescue Jack and save his father. Elizabeth's love for Jack had not changed all of Will's goals.

**

_My goals have not changed_, she told herself. Rescue Jack, marry Will…she paused. She still could not reconcile what she had seen. Tia Dalma and Will…it could not be! He would not so soon toss her aside. He still looked at her as though he loved her, but her experience with men was not so extensive that she could be sure this wasn't merely guilt that he had fallen out of love or had mistaken lust for love…or perhaps it was not guilt, but regret. He regretted having professed to love her.

She could not be sure. She wanted desperately to talk to him, to explain what she had done and why, to feel his strong arms embracing her, and the sweet, soft words he would whisper in her ear to comfort her. She shook her head as she realized she could not do it. Confessing her actions would be impossible whether he loved her or not. If he did love her, this would surely convince him of his mistake. If he did not love her, then he would not be willing to comfort her. Besides which she was not sure she deserved to be comforted. No, this was her burden.

Her thoughts returned to what he had seen of Will and Tia Dalma. Something about it was puzzling. Will had seemed, well, not himself at the very least. Was it stress from the voyage to Singapore? Was it that he mourned Jack? Was it that his current predicament—sailing with pirates to save another pirate from beyond death—had overwhelmed him? Was it something else entirely? She knew Will had met his father aboard the Flying Dutchman. Had that been too much for him to bear? Will had sought his father for a good portion of his life. He'd never truly given up, and any day he might have to himself while he was apprenticed to Mr. Brown, he'd always spent at the ports asking questions and seeking information from transient sailors on the whereabouts of Bill Turner.

She knew that he'd spent a fair share of the pittance he'd earned over the years on bribes and drinks for merchant sailors trying to buy information. Most of what he'd gotten had been of little use. Many of the sailors had seen Will as an easy source of income…promise him information, lead him on a bit, take his money.

She recalled a day…she had been about 16…she was accompanying her father and a few servants to the port to say farewell to Lord and Lady Braxton, who were returning to England. While her father spoke to Lord Braxton, she'd found her attention wandering. She'd come to wonder how Lord and Lady Braxton could consider returning to London. The sky here was so blue, the air so clean and scented with exotic aromas. The sound of the peculiar patois of the natives, the lap of the waves on the shore, the songs of merchants trying to sell their wares…and…she frowned as she realized what else she heard. Moaning. A soft moan had come to her attention and just as she turned to scan her surrounding to see what she might see, the sound stopped with an abrupt intake of breath. Someone was injured. She was certain of it. Her eyes moved quickly looking for anyone moving slowly or oddly, and there she saw it.

A lone, dark figure had just reached the head of the alley by one of the more disreputable water front pubs. Head bent, one hand clutched around his middle while the other, pale and bleeding, leaned heavily on the wall. She frowned, sure she recognized him, somehow…and then he turned toward her slightly, his eyes cast upward and squinting in the daylight as though he'd just woken.

"Will," she whispered, her heart in her throat. She clutched her father's arm, interrupting his conversation, though not caring a whit for how rude it was. "Father!"

He'd turned to tell her precisely how rude she'd been, she was sure, but the fear she'd felt had shown on her face. Startled, he followed her gaze as she pointed, 'It's Will, Father! He's hurt."

She broke from his side, running to see what she could do for Will. She was halfway to his side, her father following with Lord Braxton and two of the sailors from the Lord's ship when Will took a tentative step away from the wall and fell.

Elizabeth was by his side in an instant. "Will?" He looked up at her, his eyes clouded with pain and confusion. Blood stained his clothes and hair, and though most of it had dried, it appeared his fall had started the blood flowing once more.

"Miss Swann?" He asked, just as the Governor and Lord Braxton appeared.

"Mr. Turner, what's happened to you?" Governor Swann asked, his hand steadying the young man.

"I…" he swallowed. "I had come to the port last evening, looking…" he paused and looked down again. When he spoke again, his voice was an embarrassed whisper. "Looking for news of my father. Two merchant sailors claimed they could help me…" he looked away again.

Governor Swann nodded. "They robbed you. Really, Mr. Turner, you must stop this search! You put yourself in jeopardy!"

"Father, I don't think now is the time to lecture him." Elizabeth's tone stopped her father's tirade.

Governor Swann nodded and helped Will to his feet. "Are you well enough to make it home, lad?"

"He most certainly is not!" Elizabeth declared. "We shall take him home and have Dr. Abbot take a look at him."

It was plain to all present that Governor Swann took umbrage to her suggestion, but would not argue the point in front of Lord and Lady Braxton.

Elizabeth had seen to Will's injury, which had turned out to be much less severe than she had first assumed. He had recovered himself quickly, and his embarrassment had made it difficult for him to speak. She had finally taken his hand and looked into his eyes. "Will, don't worry. Please. You don't need to be embarrassed. I wanted to help you."

He offered a tentative smile. "It seems you have twice now come to my rescue, Miss Swann."

"Twice?"

"Once when first we met, and now, after this robbery."

"I hardly came to our rescue! The ship…"

"I was told that you spotted me first, Miss Swann."

She blushed. She hadn't been aware that he knew that. "Well, yes…"

"I will repay the debt, Miss Swann. You may depend upon it. As long as I am near, you will always be safe." He'd blushed then, obviously embarrassed by the words his heart had forced him to utter. "Forgive my presumptuousness, Miss Swann."

She'd smiled at him then, and now, recalling those words she had not recalled until this moment, she realized that he had indeed repaid her. If it had not been for Will Turner, none would have come after her when Barbossa's crew had taken her. He had saved her then, and his every thought since Beckett had arrested them both had been for her safety. "Oh, Will," she whispered. Her eyes scanned the deck of Tia Dalma's ship for his familiar shape. She found him soon enough, but once again Tia Dalma hung on his arm.

"Oh, Will," she whispered once more, her heart breaking.

**

Captain Barbossa stared out across the sea. The sea at night had always been his favorite thing to behold, but he wondered how that might change if this little adventure worked out as Tia Dalma planned. Would he be at her service for decades to come? She'd been vague about releasing him from any obligations to her. Would he get what he desired, or was she merely using him? He presumed that was just what she was doing. She was less trustworthy than any pirate.

The thought that Tia Dalma could yet betray him was not a new one. The closer they got to their objective, the more strongly it nagged at him. He would put it out of his mind for hours at a time, the business of running the ship taking all of his concentration, only to have it leap to the forefront as soon as he had a spare moment.

He had just enough remembrance of the moment of death and the moment of awakening to fear Tia Dalma. The woman held his future in her hands. She had brought him back from beyond, and she had told him he was bound to her will until her plans came to fruition. Once she achieved her goals, he would be free and would be rewarded. Having little choice in the matter, he'd agreed to do as she asked, but questions still nagged him. Would she be able to send him back again if things did not go as she planned? He would betray her if he could. He need only discover what, if any, control she held over him. That was why he needed Jack. Jack and Tia Dalma knew each other well.

Tia Dalma had long supported Jack whenever she could. She was sweet on him some said, but Barbossa knew better. Tia Dalma's love was lost to her. She might well lust after Jack Sparrow, and by all appearances, she had feelings for Bootstrap's whelp, but she could not love. She had long ago lost the capacity.

Barbossa knew that Tia Dalma had once sought solace in Jack's arms, but he knew little of their relationship. Jack wouldn't speak of it, and Tia Dalma expected commitment without offering it herself. He knew each would betray the other for whatever gain could be achieved. That they each knew that as well kept them on their toes.

Barbossa doubted Jack knew what to do with trust. If someone believed in him, or thought he would do the right thing, if someone thought Sparrow's motivations were anything but personal, Jack would freeze in indecision.

Undoubtedly that was why the former Captain of the _Black Pearl_ had nearly been hung in Port Royal.

It was only the trustworthiness of the whelp that had saved him. It was only that Will Turner couldn't allow a friend to die if it were in his power to save him, regardless of the consequences. Barbossa wondered what that felt like…to be unable to look after your own interests because someone else's welfare came first. He shuddered at the thought.

Barbossa searched the deck for the lad, and saw the whelp in question once more in Tia Dalma's company. The glazed look in the lad's eye told Barbossa that Tia Dalma had other things on her agenda than what he'd been told

Regardless of the way things turned out for anyone else, the _Black Pearl_ was his ship, and even if they were to free Jack Sparrow from the Locker, he would not give her up. He would keep her and return to his life of piracy, a life restored to him by unnatural means. A life threatened if Tia Dalma did not keep her part of the bargain and aid him in ridding the seas of the East India Trading Company.

What would happen to Sparrow he neither knew nor cared. He was necessary. He was needed. For now.

**

Weeks passed and finally they drew near enough to Singapore so that reviewing and revising the details of their plans seemed reasonable.

Will listened to Barbossa's outline of the plan, and shook his head. He felt as though he were listening to one of Jack's plans. "Someone will sneak into Sao Feng's encampment?" He asked. Barbossa nodded. "And steal the charts?" Another nod. "Then the rest of the crew persuades Sao Feng to attend the Brethren's Council?"

"Will," Elizabeth spoke to him. For the first time in weeks, she had spoken to him. He turned incredulous eyes to her as she continued. "It's all we have."

He drank in the sight of her actually looking at him. She'd avoided his gaze since Jack had died. She had not looked him in the eyes since then. Now, seeing those clear, determined eyes still struggling with some burden she would not share, he nodded, speaking softly. "As you wish." He turned back to Barbossa. "I will be the someone."

Barbossa smiled. "As I intended. You, at least, will stick to the plan. You don't scare off as easily as some." Barbossa's laugh irritated Will, but he did his best to ignore it.

Tia Dalma stepped forward. "De plan is in de details. Sao Feng is not easily goin' to give up 'im charts. Dey are 'im power." She looked to Will a small smile revealing her blackened teeth. "You goin' ta need dis." She held out a small dagger to him.

Hesitantly, he reached for it. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted anything from her. It was small, tiny really, but in the handle was carved a symbol. "What does it mean?" He asked.

Her smile broadened. "Immortality."

"A symbol of immortality on an instrument of death?"

"Dere be many t'ings, William Turner, that seem out of place, but dem it is dat we make best use of."

He was mystified and didn't hide it. Before he could ask another question, Elizabeth spoke again, but not to him.

"I'm coming along, Barbossa."

Will was not startled that she wanted to be included in the mission, but he was startled that she hadn't asked to go with him. Then he remembered she loved Jack, not him. She would have no cause to go with him. It hurt. A sharp pain in his chest made him wince. He felt the blade in his hand and had a moment of distress where he imagined plunging the small blade into his chest to rip out his heart, thus sparing himself the pain. Realizing that sounded too much like the tale he'd heard from Tia Dalma he slipped the dagger into his pocket and wiped his palm on this pants until the itch to hold the blade subsided.

Several hours later, he stood upon the deck receiving last orders from Barbossa and Tia Dalma. Elizabeth stood close by, watching him with sad, pain-filled eyes, and he wondered what it would be like right now if she still loved him. They would kiss, he was sure, and they would whisper sweet words and soft assurances to each other. She would make him promise to return. He would ask her to reconsider her part in Barbossa's talk with Sao Feng. The ache was back. A pain blossomed in his heart as he realized he'd lost her, and his palm itched once more, moving of it's own volition to the blade in his pocket.

He loved her still and would not deny it just because he had lost her favor. "Elizabeth…" he took a breath to say something, but his mind was a blank. Love for her welled up in his heart. "Be careful." He finished. She nodded, and he would have reached for her, stolen a kiss, but he was afraid he would taste the truth of his shattered dreams on her lips. If that happened, he doubted he could finish his task. Instead he bid her farewell with his eyes, and slipped over the side of the ship for the short swim to shore.

"I'll see her soon." He promised himself, but even his own words sounded hollow in his ears.

The moon was hidden by shadow, and for that small favor, Will was grateful. The biggest impediment to this foray was a lack of information. Barbossa had considered it too risky to send someone in advance to get the lay of the land, and Tia Dalma's methods of information gathering, tossing lobster claws and the like, were things Will preferred not to trust with his life. The cloud cover and the still air were at least to his advantage.

He wore black so as to blend with the night, and that precaution, along with the many weapons strapped to arms and legs, had been all he could manage. Barbossa had been here before, and claimed it could not have changed much, but Barbossa could never claim to have Will's trust any more than did Tia Dalma's lobster claws.

He came ashore as quietly as possible, eyes scanning the area for guards. There were more than guards. There was more than a sleepy village. This wasn't at all as Barbossa had described it, and Will wondered what else Barbossa had told him was to prove to be inaccurate.

**

Elizabeth stared after Will long after she could no longer see him. She imagined him swimming through the dark, forbidding water, alert for threat, but single-minded in objective. That was her Will--single-minded. He had a goal—forging the best blade a man could wield, saving her from pirates, finding Jack Sparrow--and he did all he could to reach that goal. These weeks since Jack's death, he'd seemed so distant, but she knew that she was to blame for that. She'd avoided speaking to him afraid that a few moments looking into those eyes would be her undoing. She would confess what she'd done. She would plead with him to love her anyway. She would be helpless. It was not a feeling she took to. She'd felt it as she'd run through the house the night Barbossa and the _Black Pearl_ first attacked Port Royal. She had no experience with swords, and couldn't find one to use in any case. Parlay had been her only defense, and that hadn't worked out as she'd intended.

Nothing worked out as she intended.

Will had always been there. She realized now that she'd always known he'd loved her. How could she not? The way he looked at her...those eyes...But had something changed? Did he suspect what she had done? Did his objections to piracy--understandable in one who had lost everything and almost lost his life on his first sea voyage to Pirates—color his view of her and her infatuation with a pirate's life and make it impossible for him to love her?

They'd talked after they'd saved Jack Sparrow from the Gallows, and he had expressed surprise at how quickly she'd taken to a pirate's life. She had laughed it off saying he'd done all right himself. Was piracy so abhorrent to him that seeing her aboard the _Pearl_ had made him realize she wasn't the prim and proper Governor's daughter? Or did he somehow look at her and know she'd murdered Jack Sparrow?

Murder. Even now the word hurt like a sword thrust to her soul. What had she done? She'd known at the time it was the right thing to do, and yet she had never considered how difficult it would be to live with.

She stared still after him wishing she'd insisted on going with him, but she'd been so afraid. They had barely spoken in all these weeks. What if they could no longer work together seamlessly as they once had? What if their uncertainty around each other forced one or the other into some sort of mistake? What if she cost him his life? The thought froze her heart. That she could cause his death was her greatest fear. It had grown from the nightmares that haunted her each night and returned each day as specter visions of dream images of her chaining not Jack, but Will to the _Pearl_ and watching as the Kraken devoured it...devoured him, devoured her love, her heart. Other dreams were much more intimate. She'd be in the midst of a sword fight, and would turn after dispatching her opponent, only to face Will, whom she'd managed to skewer as she turned. The look of disbelief and betrayal on his face...

She felt the tears sitting in her eyes waiting to fall. She closed them tightly and bit back the sob the image always forced from her. One or two tears fell, but she was successful in holding back the rest. Elizabeth would not show weakness here…not in front of Barbossa and his crew. There were none, with the possible exception of Gibbs, whom she could trust, and even Gibbs wasn't completely reliable so much as familiar. No, without Jack or Will, she felt truly alone.

Her eyes scanned the water looking for Will but knowing she wouldn't see him. It wasn't until she saw the reflection on the water that she realized the cloud cover Will had counted on was gone. The moon was full and bright. "Will." she whispered, fear making her voice small and high.

Then there was no time for thoughts or tears. She turned and prepared for her part in the scheme.

**

Captain Jack Sparrow stared out at nothing. There was nothing to stare out at and this made him mad. Not angry...mad. The madness had taken some time to touch him, and he wondered at times if he imagined it, and he wasn't mad at all, merely bored. _Pearl_ told him he was being silly, and that of course he was mad. Anyone who spoke to a ship was mad. "Ah," said Jack, "but are you mad if you talk to the ship or if the ship talks to you?" He thought about that for a moment. "Nevermind. Bad example."

There was no way to mark time in the locker, and Jack knew there was no end to the torment. A ship and no ocean to sail her in. Nno crew to jump at his orders.

"You're mad, all right, Jack my boy."

"Who asked you?"

"Well, not in so many words, but you were thinking it.

"Leave me alone."

"You are alone."

"Right. Keep forgetting that."

And so it went. He generally ignored himself. It was easier that way. One day he saw himself standing by the wheel. "What are you doing?" He asked.

"I'm Poseidon, God-King of the Sea!" He declared.

Jack ignored himself some more, but the Poseidon Jack was persistent.

"Well, why wouldn't he be? He's mad," Jack mumbled.

"No, that's you," Poseidon Jack supplied helpfully.

"Oh, well, I knew it was one of us."

**

Will cursed his luck. The cloud cover was gone, and there were twice as many guards as Barbossa had told him there would be. He'd kept to the shadows as much as possible, but now there were no options. The encampment was crowded, almost bustling. Barbossa had insisted it was a

"sleepy little place", but either the man had lied or he'd been here so long ago his information was outdated.

He had to cross an open expanse in order to get to the room where the charts were stored. Skirting to the left would lead him to several large, alert guards. Skirting to the right would take him past what had to be a brothel. There were men and women in various stages of undress and much...activity. He was sure to be spotted. He considered sitting until daylight. Perhaps with so much nighttime activity, dawn would find the denizens sleeping. He pondered that notion, but didn't like it. No, he had to take the chance. He would go by the brothel. Perhaps, with luck, he would be mistaken for a patron of the establishment. He took his cue from those he observed, and when a large party walked past his hiding place, he joined behind them behaving as they did.

He slipped away and made for the darkened section of the village. He knew what building he sought by the presence of the guards. There were four. Three more than Barbossa had surmised. Will crept carefully around the building sizing up the guards as well as the entrances. There, on the back wall, he found a small window. If the guards stayed in their current position, he could creep over to it and slip inside. Just then, they moved and each of the two guards he could still see traded places. After a few words, they resumed their watchful stance, and Will made his move.

The window was a bit tight, but Will managed to slip silently inside. Once there, he gave himself a moment for his eyes to adjust. When they did, he realized Barbossa's information was worse than useless. Nothing was as he'd described it. He would have to search the room thoroughly. He only hoped Barbossa's description of the object he sought was close enough to allow him to recognize it.

The seach went slowly. Aware that any noise might bring the guards inside, Will moved carefully and silently. The window let in just enough moonlight so he didn't have to light a candle, but it slowed things down considerably as he had to bring things to the window to see if he'd found the charts. Frustration was getting the better of him, when his hand brushed something. It was rolled as a map would be, and Will caught his breath and tried to steady his pounding heart. He slipped it off the shelf noting it was heavier than he'd thought it would be. Drawing close to the window, he unrolled it and caught his breath. This was it. He tucked it inside his shirt, and eased himself up to the window, peeking outside before pulling himself up to the ledge. He

was about to drop to the ground when he sensed more than saw the guard coming around the corner. He pulled back just in time to avoid the man. He waited there for the man to move, but he didn't. The guard leaned against the side of the building and removed a shoe, dumping out a few pebbles before replacing it and removing the other. Will dared not breath. The man was just below him. Even climbing down from the ledge to hide in the darkened building could well alert the man to his presence, so he sat still and staring. Finally, the man moved off, and Will gave it a count of three before dropping out of the window. He was almost to the safety of the shadows, when a low growl sounded to his left. There, staring from the bushes, were two eyes. The growl sounded again, and Will saw the creature step forward. It was a dog, but a wild one, not domesticated. If he could distract it, he could still get away. Unfortunately, he had nothing with which to distract it. He eased a hand to his sleeve and removed one of the knives he'd strapped there, but the

dog was upon him in an instant. He fell to the ground, catching the animal and using all his strength to keep the snapping jaws from his throat.

Saliva dripped from the white fangs as the dog barked menacingly in his face. It's warm, foul breath made Will cringe almost as much as the snapping teeth. His arms began to shake with the effort of keeping the beast from tearing him to pieces. A moment or two more and Will knew he would be unable to fight it off. Those moments passed, and still, somehow, Will and the beast were a frozen tableau. His grip began to give way, and in that instant when he was certain the animal would tear out his throat, he heard a gunshot. The dog fell, blood and brain splattering Will as it dropped instantly. Relief made his straining arms tremble all the more. He looked up then at the four guards each leveling a gun or sword at him. He would have raised his hands, but he was unable just as he was unable to offer any resistance as they hauled him to his feet and dragged him away.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: I forgot to put in a disclaimer. I don't own it. I'm making no money. This is meant as entertainment only.

I've been told that Will's tenure as Captain of the Dutchman was ten years, and he was released at the end of that first ten years. Nice idea, but I still don't buy that Elizabeth would accept the initial deal. She wouldn't have known it was going to be just ten years, and she's not a patient woman. Will might believe it was duty or something, but I think Little Lizzie would be less than willing to accept the scenario. Certainly, I don't want to accept it. As for the rest of this story, I have it mostly written, but I'm still fiddling with it.

I'm not sure exactly how long this will be. I'm still working out details. Please review. I write faster when I know someone's reading.

Beyond World's End by Ecri

Chapter 3

Anticipation made her angry and impatient. Anger had all but consumed her since she realized that Jack Sparrow had died. Tia Dalma had long ago discovered that he wasn't what she'd thought he was, but she also knew he was necessary to her plans. Leading Will Turner to her was a good start, but she needed Jack to pull this off completely. She could not defeat her enemies without him. Her rage at learning of Jack's passing had become a scream that those who heard it assumed was grief at the passing of the Pirate Captain. When she finally calmed herself, she had a plan. She'd brought Barbossa back from the dead. It had been a painstaking process, and had taken much time and energy. She had only succeeded in reviving him when she'd learned of Sparrow's demise. Now she would try the same with Captain Jack Sparrow.

Retrieving Sparrow from Davy Jones' Locker would be a much more hazardous and difficult undertaking, but she would not be denied. With the two Pirate captains owing their lives to her, she would have the means of forcing taking what was her due.

She stared at the water, and tossed her claws again and again, but could find no hint of Jack Sparrow's condition. She had not told the others that there was a chance that Sparrow might not have survived the trip to the Locker. Some did not. Physically, he would be there, but only time would tell if his mind would survive whatever it and the Locker conjured for the Pirate Captain to endure. She had no thought yet if young Turner would survive Sao Feng's camp, and so she had passed along the knife. It would, she hoped, protect him when she could not.

Will Turner was important certainly, but he was not the only one to whom the burden could be given. True, he was a beautiful man, and one that had stirred emotions she had not felt in a long time. His looks surpassed even Davy Jones in his original form. Never had she seen a man so handsome…unless it be Jack Sparrow himself.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she remembered her first meeting with Captain Jack. He had been a new Captain then, testing boundaries and yearning to make a name for himself, and his looks had beguiled her almost as much as had Will Turner's when she had first laid eyes upon him.

Sparrow had come to her searching for treasure. She had never been sure that he knew who and what she was before that first meeting, but by the time he left her, he knew many of her secrets. Many, but not all.

Barbossa had been with him, and Bootstrap Bill Turner, as well as Cutler Beckett. Ah, Beckett! She had dreamed of him just before Sparrow had brought Will Turner to her. Yes, she saw Beckett's hand in the events that surrounded her. Beckett's ambition had not waned in all these years. If anything it had grown. Fed by whatever achievements he'd managed, roused by both his successes and his failures, Beckett's ambition had become his reason for living. She could no longer ignore him.

When she had first met the foursome—Barbossa, Beckett, Bootstrap, and Sparrow—she had found them amusing. Barbossa had not come to his own Captaincy as of yet, and jealousy was his chief motivator. Beckett sought glory. Bootstrap, well, the Senior Mr. Turner had two desires. The sea had won his heart, but his thoughts were ever on his family.

Sparrow had been her favorite--his charm, his looks, the twinkle of his eye. He could almost make her forget her misery, and for that she had made a trade. She had allowed him to believe that he'd gotten more than she'd intended, but she'd wanted him to have it. She needed him to have it. The compass was a dangerous tool if used by the wrong kind of man. She'd seen immediately that Beckett had wanted it, and that had been curious. She could have destroyed it to be sure he'd never get it. She could have kept it to be sure it was not within his reach. Ah, but giving the compass to Jack would torture Beckett. She enjoyed that.

It had been Sparrow's plan to seek her out. He had brought the others, who served upon his ship, most likely to bolster his own courage. He was a young man to be a Captain, and yet she saw that he was capable of achieving all that he wanted if he could only decide what that was.

Tia Dalma had been sitting alone, using whatever means available to forget her own sorrows. Sparrow's entrance was not unexpected. She had seen someone coming, but had not cared who it was. When she had seen him, her have drunken, half drugged stupor cleared a bit. The token on the scarf upon his head, visible when he doffed his hat, drew her eyes to it as a flame drew moths.

She stared at it, then at him, then back again. Pulling her gaze back to his eyes, she allowed herself a small, welcoming smile. "Well, _Captain_! What is it ye want?"

He blinked, perhaps not expecting the question or perhaps searching for meaning hidden within her thick accent. "Well, Lass, I'm searching, as most pirates do, for treasure."

"Dere be many t'ings dat men count as treasure."

Jack blinked again. "Yes, true." He admitted this as he seemed to hunt for words to persuade her to tell him what he wanted to know.

"So, den, Jack Sparrow, what treasure do ye mean when ye speak o'treasure?"

"The treasure I mean when I say treasure is the most expensive kind…what any good pirate captain…at least the greedy, lustful captains…would be glad to own. Gold, jewels, precious and rare objects…"

She laughed. "And what ye be willin' ta barter for such information?"

Barbossa drew his sword. "Yer life!"

Tia Dalma scowled at him her anger at his words and manner obvious. Before she had done a thing in retaliation, Sparrow stepped between her and the bare blade. He turned to address Barbossa.

"Now, Hector, let's not do anything stupid…"

Barbossa glared at Sparrow. "You don't even know she has any idea where to find any treasure!"

"She does, mate. Trust me."

As the two tossed words around, Tia Dalma studied the other two. One was called Bootstrap. He seemed a decent sort, and for a moment she thought he, and not Sparrow might be what she needed. The hope died newborn as she realized her folly with a toss of the lobster claws. A man in love with the sea yet torn by the thought of his child growing up without him wouldn't be willing to give up what little he had just because she asked it of him.

Cutler Beckett, on the other hand, wasn't remotely to be considered. His steely gaze had not wavered from her face since he had entered the cabin. She stared at him in turn now and realized that, though the other two deferred to Sparrow—regardless of how reluctantly Barbossa did it—Cutler Beckett had his own agenda. She smiled encouragingly. She might be able to use him after all.

"Ye seek dat which Sparrow does not."

He scoffed. "What do you know of what I seek?"

She approached him and placed a hand over his heart. "I know enough. You t'ink only of…" she gasped. Her eyes moved to his and her mouth hung open in shock. She whispered the words wondering how she'd missed this when he'd first entered. "Domination not enough for de likes of you. Ye seek glory …" that wasn't right. She shook her head, frowning. "No, ye seek Power. You crave a power not wielded in dis world since de dawn of time. You t'ink it be rightly yours. You will wrest it from 'im dead fingers if you can."

Beckett did not seem startled by her words. His own grin—for it could not be called a smile—was feral and dark. "I take what is mine." He took her hand, the one still resting lightly on his chest, and squeezed it tightly enough to cause pain, to crush bone. "I take _all there is_," he said, allowing a ferocity into his words. "…and I give nothing back."

She tore her hand from his grip, expecting to find it bleeding and broken, but surprised to find it whole and unharmed. She backed away from him, her eyes still locked on his. "You brought dem here. Dey tink it was dere idea, but it was you."

"Knowledge is power. I want what you can give me."

"I can give ye not'ing."

He smiled. "Then let me pay you for it." He pulled a knife from his belt and held it so she could see it while keeping it out of her reach. It was a small blade, easily concealed in a man's hand. The hilt was worn, but there was a small symbol carved into it; the symbol for immortality.

"Where did ye get dat?" Her voice was a whisper, but her eyes were flames.

"That is a long story I've no inclination to share. What I want in exchange is knowledge. You know the best ways I might amass the power I seek. What must I do? What do I need to know? Do you have books? Legends?"

Barbossa, Bootstrap, and Sparrow were still arguing, but Tia Dalma paid them no mind. She crossed to a small shelf to the rear of the room and reached for a book. The black spine was unmarked except for the same small symbol that adorned the knife hilt. She hesitated a moment, but forced herself to bring it down from the shelf. She walked slowly back to him, scowling. "Dis is not somet'ing te play wit. Ye be sure ye want it, for dere be no turnin' back once ye've read the like of dis."

She held it out to him, and just as he reached out for it, she snatched it back. "Give me 'im blade if ye be wantin' 'im book."

He held it out to her and each of them tore the object they desired from the other's grip.

It was only then that Sparrow turned to Tia Dalma. "What do you want in exchange for the location of a treasure that will make me and my crew very wealthy?"

Tia Dalma shook off her unease at her confrontation with Beckett and smiled a smile of lust and longing. "One night, Jack Sparrow…"

Jack's eyes widened in surprise and he took her hand. "Don't wait up," he tossed over his shoulder as they moved together toward the stairs.

That had been the first time Sparrow had ever foiled her plans. They'd made love and she'd rested her hand on his chest, over his heart for much of it. If she could control this boy-Captain, she could find a way to deal with the Brethren Court.

Just at the point where she was about to mark him as hers, his hand gripped her wrist and forced it from his chest. She looked up into his eyes, startled even by this much defiance.

The grin was back upon his face. He'd worn it downstairs as he'd entered and introduced himself, and now he spoke to her with the expression of someone who knows beyond any doubt that he controlled the situation. "Whatever it is you're doing, Tia Dalma, I'd save it for someone else." Slowly he twisted her wrist until she almost cried out in surprise and pain.

Her eyes locked onto his, which seemed to be laughing at her, but there was understanding, compassion, and sympathy there as well. "I'm flattered," he admitted. "I didn't think I'd be what you sought, and truly, I don't think I quite fit the bill, but I'm flattered you thought highly enough of me to try it." His eyes sparkled with humor and with excitement.

"What de ye know, Sparrow?"

He sighed then, not releasing her hand. "I know the prophecy, and I know I'd help you if I could, but as I can't, I'll take what you promised."

"I asked for one night. Ye haven't been here dat long. Wait until mornin'."

He nodded. "That's fair."

"What d'ya know about 'fair'? What d'ya know about _me_?"

Sparrow smiled, but it was different from the grin he'd used earlier in front of his friends. There was a sadness here that told her he knew more than she'd suspected.

"I'm sure I don't know everything, but what I've learned is…interesting. You, for instance, aren't what you seem."

"Few are."

He nodded, conceding the point. "True, but there's a menace to you. A fury that can own you if you let it."

She laughed. "That's not true of you, den, Captain Jack Sparrow? Rage over injustice wouldn't own you?"

"Nothing owns me."

She laughed again, but when she would have spoken he interrupted her.

"I'm not what you're seeking."

"So you said. How do you know what I seek?"

He shrugged. "I know all my father had to tell."

"D'ya now?" She smiled, hoping he would doubt himself, but if he did, it didn't show. She changed the subject. "I know what _you_ seek, Jack Sarrow."

"I told you that. Treasure." His eyes twinkled in anticipation of the gold and jewels that would soon be his.

She climbed from her bed and crossed to a small table in the corner. He watched as she picked up the compass she had decided to give to him. She held it out to him. "Dis will point to what you want."

"Heart's desire sort of thing?"

"No. Dat is a different, more powerful sort of magic. Dis points to what you _want_ at the moment dat you 'old it."

"I want treasure," Jack insisted reaching his hand out to take it, eyes wide.

She held it just out of his reach. "Can you be trusted, Jack Sparrow, wit de magic I offer."

Sparrow grinned. "Pirate."

"Den why should I give it to you?"

"Is there some other pirate you trust more? I'm a man of my word. How many pirates can say that?"

She smiled knowing he wasn't being completely honest, but among the others who made up the Brethren Court, he could easily be considered most honest. She nodded her head and handed the compass to him.

In the course of that night, she'd learned that he had known what to expect from her. He'd been told much about her past, and she found it amusing to fill in the gaps…somewhat. His father had despised her, and he'd told all he could to his son, whether from familial obligation or—more likely—because Jack had found a way to force it out of him, she had not discovered.

Sparrow had been right about one thing. He hadn't been quite what she needed, but it had been so long since she'd found one as close as him that she'd had to try.

She broke from her reverie shaking off the memories as her mind supplied the image of Will Turner…the one man in all these years who could indeed be what she needed. She tossed the claws again, but they told her nothing. She looked across the water to where she knew he was, but felt nothing. Waiting, she realized, was worse than she'd ever imagined.

**

Sao Feng felt his fury rise. He held the slip of paper in his hand. Barbossa's ugly scrawl adorned the sheet requesting a meeting. He was certain this was somehow related to the boy who'd tried to take his charts. Did Barbossa think him a fool? Sao Feng allowed his rage to overtake him. Barbossa had long been a thorn in his side, almost as bad as Sparrow. He'd thought Barbossa had died some years ago, and was displeased to learn this was untrue. He would have to prepare a greeting for them. A slow, wicked smile spread across his face. Yes, a reunion between the boy and Barbossa. Something to prove to that infuriating man that Sao Feng was not to be fooled with. He knew Barbossa likely had no attachment or concern for the tool of his folly, but that was inconsequential. The reunion would show only that Barbossa was not able to trick Sao Feng. The only thing to decide now was if the boy should be alive for the reunion, and how long he should permit Barbossa to live afterwards.

Before he made that decision, he would interrogate the prisoner himself. It had been some time since someone had tried to cross him. His own people knew better. This boy could provide some distraction and perhaps serve as further proof of his own superiority.

Yes, he would interrogate the prisoner. He would see how he could make the boy scream.

**

Will had been imprisoned before though now that he thought of it only in the years since he had met Captain Jack Sparrow. Sao Feng's prison was not much better or worse than others he'd seen, though the stakes now were higher than he liked to play. His failure could cause problems for Elizabeth, and he could only hope that Barbossa might change his mind and leave her aboard the ship. Of course, that didn't seem much safer to him, especially should he and Barbossa not return. He'd been caught last night. When they'd pried the dog's body, what was left of it, off him and dragged him away, Will had been unable to fight. Now, after who knew how many hours in this darkened room with no food or water, he was in no condition to force his way out. He lay there, trying to work off the ropes they'd bound him with, but succeeded only in bloodying his wrists. His throat was parched and sore, and his stomach rumbled loudly, yet his only thoughts were for Elizabeth. The best scenario he could envision was that Sao Feng would refuse to see Barbossa, and then he and Elizabeth would find some other way to save Jack. There were worse ways to die than in a Singapore prison. He'd seen some of them. Worst case would be if Sao Feng agreed to see Barbossa, and they walked into some trap. If Elizabeth lost her life because of him, he could never forgive himself. Of course, he didn't expect to live long

either way.

The door was thrown open crashing into the wall. Startled, Will looked up, blinking in the torchlight. Sao Feng stared down at him. It could be no one else. Sao Feng spoke, and Will stared up at him, blinking, his eyes tearing from the sudden bright light of the torches. Sao Feng barked something at him, but Will shook his head. Sao Feng knew he couldn't understand him. It was just an excuse for what was to come.

Sao Feng kicked him viciously in the stomach, and Will curled in a ball gasping desperately for air, and unable to take any in. Sao Feng gestured to his men and two of them appeared on either side of him, hauling him to his feet. Still gasping for air, he looked in Sao Feng's general direction, hoping to be able to anticipate what would happen next.

"You are with Barbossa."

"No." Will whispered, barely able to get enough air in his lungs to croak out the word.

A slap across the face followed.

"You are with Barbossa."

"Don't know him."

Sao Feng stared Will in the eye. "I will make you scream."

Will returned the gaze. "That's as may be, but I can tell you nothing." It was the truth. Will could tell him nothing. Telling might endanger Elizabeth, and he could no more willingly do that than he could train himself not to breathe the air. Truth or no, it did not work on Sao Feng.

The Pirate Lord stared at Will a moment his scowl changing slowly to a smile full of venom and the promise of pain. "If that is true, boy, then you will wish it were not before I am through with you."

Will knew he meant every word.

Will was dragged to another room. They didn't beat him, which only convinced him they had something worse in mind. He was right.

They tied him to the yoke and, forcing him into the vat of water, pushed him below the waterline. He'd hardly had a moment and had been in the midst of a breath when his head hit water. The men were strong, and though he struggled as much as he was able, he did not feel the pole give at all. Just when he thought his lungs would burst he was hauled to his feet to stand dripping in the vat. Again and again, dunking and standing, they pulled him in and out of the water. He inhaled more than a little water, and often came up sputtering when they allowed him up.

Then they plunged him below and though he struggled, they did not let him up. In desperation, he forced his limbs to still thinking they might let him up if they thought him dead. He began to realize that was a bad idea when his lungs burned and his limbs felt heavy. The irony of dying while pretending to be dead was not lost on him.

**

Elizabeth and Barbossa argued. Incessantly and continuously they bandied back and forth with details of their plan insisting and bargaining and parleying until Barbossa glared at the girl. "Are ye sure ye weren't born to Pirates and kidnapped by the Governor of Port Royal?"

Thoughts of her father were quickly shoved aside. Elizabeth could not spare the emotional upheaval thinking of him would cause. She worried for him. She hoped he'd returned to England to elicit help against Beckett, but if he hadn't, which she thought more likely, would Beckett have thrown him in prison? Would he have had him hung? She blinked back the emotion and glared at Barbossa. "Are we agreed?"

"We are. Go and get yourself dressed."

Elizabeth disappeared below decks slipping into the strange little outfit they'd prepared for her. The hat was odd, but it would help hide her hair and for that she was grateful. Once dressed, she braided it quickly, perched the hat atop her head and joined Barbossa on deck.

Her only thoughts were of Will. She had hoped to see him back aboard ship before they had to speak to Sao Feng, but he hadn't returned. She did not allow herself to wonder if things had gone wrong.

Elizabeth and Barbossa stood before Sao Feng having been disarmed and searched in what Elizabeth considered an overly enthusiastic manner. Now, as Sao Feng revealed that he was aware someone had tried to steal his charts, she was overwhelmed with fear for Will.

"I assure you it had nothing to do with me!" Barbossa insisted.

Sao Feng flung his accusations at Barbossa, while Elizabeth tried to appear unconcerned. That was shattered when Will was hauled to his feet from a vat of water standing in the corner. She hadn't even realized the thing was full of water until Will stood, tied to some heavy beam or yoke, and sputtering for breath. Her eyes wide, she stared at him fighting the urge to run to his side.

Sao Feng's next gambit worked perfectly as he moved to run Will through, and, though feigning indifference moments before, Elizabeth was unable to stifle her shocked and terrified gasps as she thought she was seeing her love murdered before her eyes. Her relief when the Pirate Lord turned and Will was still standing made her knees tremble.

Will stole a glance then, and her eyes were drawn to his like a moth to flame. He was her flame, she realized. Without him, she was cold and alone. With him, she was alive and passionate. Her mind reeled as she tried to think of ways to get Sao Feng to release him.

Sao Feng spoke still to Barbossa, accusing him of everything and anything it seemed. When he threatened to kill one of his own men, she heard Barbossa sputter that the man was not one of his, but it was Will's voice that drew her attention.

"If he's not with us and he's not with you, who's he with?"

When the fighting broke out, Elizabeth tried to work her way to Will's side, impressed that he was able to take several pirates down using the yoke as a weapon while still tied to it. Unable to reach him, she tossed a blade to him when he managed somehow to free himself.

The melee had a life of its own, and Elizabeth was shocked and surprised when she ran out of adversaries. She spun around in a tight circle searching for an opponent, whirling around, her instinct to fight resurrected when a hand gripped her wrist. He sword was met with a clang, and she experienced a rush of emotion as she stared at Will over their crossed blades.

"Will…" the word was a whisper, almost a prayer, and the emotion that went with it wouldn't let her utter another word. In unison, they dropped their blades and embraced, kissing fiercely.

Barbossa impatiently pried them apart. "We've no time for sentimental reunions."

She saw he was right, but when Will nearly blushed, much as he used to when they'd known each other in Port Royal before pirates had torn their way into their lives, she smiled at him and refused to release his hand pleased when he didn't pull away too hard.

They made their way aboard ship with promises of help and a crew complement of Sao Feng's men quicker than Elizabeth could follow. It was up to Barbossa to read the charts now. They could go no further until he deciphered them.

Will cornered her below decks. She was not ready for a confrontation, but she was worried for him. "Will," she wanted to say more, but couldn't find the words.

"Elizabeth,"

She could see the relief in his eyes that she was well. "Are you hurt?" She had to know.

He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. "I'm fine, Elizabeth."

"Are you certain?" She took a step closer to him, but he stepped back. "Have I…" _done something_, she wanted to ask, but of course she had. She was a murderer. "Are you…"

He took a step closer. "Forgive me, Elizabeth. I'm not seriously hurt. I'll be fine."

She felt a smile tug at her mouth. "Which isn't to say you're fine now."

He laughed softly, and she thought his smile might be genuine now. "Perhaps not, but I am none the worse for wear." He looked her over. "You should get some rest. I'm sure things are about to get interesting."

Elizabeth nodded. "That was the easy part."

She stepped aside to let him by. When, she wondered, had things gotten so awkward between them? She knew the answer of course. It had started after Jack had died…after she had killed him.

Permitting an indulgently loud sigh, she turned to her bunk and settled into it. She knew she wouldn't so much as doze, but a bit of rest would be just as good. She was asleep instantly.

**

Jack Sparrow stared at Poseidon Jack. "God of the Ocean, are you? If you're Poseidon, what are you doin' here? Haven't you noticed?" He gestured wildly over the side of the Pearl. "No ocean!"

He turned and walked away, but Poseidon Jack followed. "I know that! I'm here because they'll be here soon…to get you…and I need to let you know something."

"No one's coming to get me, mate. Proves you're not much into omniscience for an all-knowing, all-seeing God, now are you?" He walked away again, a triumphant smile on his face.

That's when the ship began to move. He peered over the side. No water. "Hmmmm. That's interesting."

Poseidon clapped a hand on his arm. "They're coming for you, Jack. You do have friends, even if you won't admit it."

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"Do…I don't have time for this."

"There you are being stupid again. If you're a God, you have all the time in the world!"

"We're not _in_ the world, Jack. We're in the Locker. We're past World's End."

"Right."

"So, will you listen to me?"

"Make me."

"All right." He disappeared. Jack looked around, but he was gone. "Um…how are you going to make me if you go and disappear like that?"

There was no answer.

"Hellooo?"

_This could have been easier Jack, but if this is how you need to do it, this is how we'll do it._

"Where are ye?"

_In your head._

"Must be lonely in there. All cobwebby and dark." He shuddered.

_You need this, Jack. You need to carry something with you. Believe me. It's necessary._

"What is it I'm to take? Hmmm? There's nothing here for you to give me!"

_But that's where you're wrong…_

Jack listened as he, posing as the God of the Sea pretended to give him something, though there was nothing there to give, or take, or whatever. When it was finally over, and he seemed alone again, Jack felt his ship shake. Running to the rail, he peered over the edge to see why, but instead of solving the riddle, he fell overboard.

"Heck of a way to spend eternity, chasing a ship across the sand." He said as he raced after the _Pearl_.

To Be Continued


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I am making no money. This is for entertainment purposes only—mostly my own!

Author's note: Anything familiar is taken from the film mostly as a set up for the angsty bits I've written.

Please read and review.

Beyond World's End

by Ecri

Chapter 4

The waterfall hadn't destroyed them. Elizabeth had to wonder at that. She was sure when she'd seen it that they were all about to die. Somehow, they hadn't died. What exactly had happened, she really didn't begin to understand. What she did understand was that without a ship they were as stuck as Jack…assuming that this was where Jack was stuck.

She whirled on Barbossa to take him to task, when she saw the _Pearl_ coming down a sand dune. She stared at it in shock as it made its way across the beach and into the ocean, grateful to the ship when it stopped and seemed to wait just off shore, even thought she felt silly to feel gratitude to a ship.

Moments later, Jack Sparrow came tearing down the same sand dune. She should have realized. Jack had spent much of his life chasing after the _Black Pearl_. Why would the afterlife be any different?

Jack didn't seem particularly surprised to see them. He chattered away for a few moments, and they listened. She was first to decipher Jack's odd behavior and lack of surprise to see them. "He thinks we're an hallucination."

Jack turned to Will. "Are you here to convince me to help you save a certain distressing damsel…damsel in distress…either one?"

"No," Will admitted.

"Ah," he said, triumph plain in his voice, "Then you can't _really_ be here."

"We're real, Jack." Will insisted. "We're really here. We've come to save you."

"Why should I believe you? Four of you tried to kill me! One of you succeeded!"

Will turned then in stunned surprise to look at Elizabeth, who was so startled by Jack's words, she could think of no response.

"Ah, didn't tell you, did she?"

Elizabeth looked away unable to bear the look of disbelief in Will's eyes. This was it…the beginning of the end. Fitting that her entire world would crash down around her At World's End.

**

Will heard Jack's words but was sure he misunderstood. Then he saw Elizabeth's face and knew it was true. Elizabeth had somehow killed Jack Sparrow. Jack was still speaking, but he didn't hear the words. He was caught in that moment trying to make sense it. Elizabeth had killed Jack Sparrow. Suddenly her reticence over the last weeks made sense. She was bearing a burden of guilt she was ill equipped to bear. It was one thing to kill an enemy in a fair fight, but quite another to kill a friend face to face—with a kiss. It had been her idea that he stay behind when the Kraken was attacking! How had she managed it? Was that a kiss of farewell or was it something else? A distraction, perhaps, while she restrained him somehow? Did she love Jack and kill him anyway? Why had she killed him? Had she not believed Jack could escape the Kraken?

Questions raced through his mind, and he took a step toward Elizabeth thinking to get answers, but Jack was still rambling about the ship and the Locker. Will's attention was split between Jack's raving and Elizabeth's avoiding his gaze. Why had she not spoken to him? Why had she chosen to bear this herself when he would have gladly helped her?

He pulled his attention back to his surroundings. The thoughts he entertained only bred darker thoughts, more suspicions, and infuriating questions. He would do better to concentrate on their escape from World's End. Elizabeth avoided him as they climbed aboard the Pearl, and that fact alone drove his heart to confront her.

Aboard the _Pearl_, Barbossa and Jack were engaged in belaying each other's orders. Will did what he could to get the _Pearl_ ready to sail, but as soon as he was able, he sought Elizabeth.

"Why didn't you tell me?" The words almost stuck in Will's throat.

"It was my burden to bear. You shouldn't have to." The words sounded hollow to her ears. Should she tell him her true fear; that he would think less of her and want nothing to do with her?"

Will's love, pain, and sorrow were there in his eyes. "I did bear it. I just didn't know what it was." He looked away for a moment before returning his eyes to hers. He swallowed reflexively. "I thought..." he broke off and looked down.

Realization smacked Elizabeth in the face. "You thought I loved him."

Will shrugged, his voice soft, and filled with remembered pain. "I saw you..."

"...Kissing..." Elizabeth supplied the word when Will's voice failed him again. Before she could explain herself, he went on.

"How can I trust you if you keep these plans to yourself?"

"You can't." Elizabeth's words were no less true for their immediacy.

He could only wonder if Elizabeth hated herself for saying the words, but he knew they were true. How could they build anything on lies and half-truths? She turned and walked away, slipping past him without looking at his face.

Will watched her go. There was still so much to say, and yet, he was unable to say any of it. She hadn't denied loving Jack, yet she had implied in words and tone that Will's assumption was mistaken. Regardless, she had killed Jack. Yes, he seemed fine now, but they were still in Davy Jones Locker, and at the time she'd done it, Elizabeth wouldn't have known or even suspected that Tia Dalma would suggest bringing him back from beyond.

Could he love a woman who had done this?

He laughed cheerlessly at the thought. It was moot. He loved her still. If she took up a sword and plunged it through his own heart, his last thoughts before dying would be of his love for her. He could not help it. He had loved her too long and too well, though mostly from a distance. His heart was hers.

He shook off the thoughts. It was too soon to deal with such things. They had to find their way back to the real world, and from the sound of Barbossa and Jack arguing above deck, they were far from that goal.

Above deck, Jack and Barbossa argued over whose orders took precedence over whose. Will was about to step in and sort them out when he heard a soft voice beside him.

"She 'urt you, Will Turner."

"What?" He turned to face Tia Dalma. She was looking up intently at his face, studying it, her eyes seeming to drink him in.

"Elizabeth is a pirate. It is the calling of 'er soul. She de one set all dis in motion. She de one plotting behind your back..."

As Will listened to the words, he felt again that pain in his heart he'd felt before he'd left to steal Sao Feng's charts. Her words mesmerized him, and even as some small part of him told him that Elizabeth still had some feelings for him and that he could not deny his love for her, the pain grew. He looked at Tia Dalma, puzzlement on his face, but though she continued to speak, he could not hear her words. She reached up a hand and touched his face, feather light, and drew him to her. He had no choice but to follow.

They went below decks, just where he'd spoken to Elizabeth, and the thought of her was like a knife through his heart. His bewilderment grew. He had always felt warmth and happiness when he'd thought of Elizabeth. Why now was there pain? His mind reeled, reminding him of the pain of longing he'd felt for years as the poor apprentice blacksmith enamored of the Governor's daughter. That pain, the pain of betrayal, the pain her words had just caused…it all coalesced within him and became the only real thing in his world.

Tia Dalma brought both hands to his face now and drew him closer. She leaned forward and upwards and just as her lips touched his, Gibbs appeared.

"Oh, uh. pardon me..." Gibbs voice broke through Will's confusion and pain. He tore away from Tia Dalma and raced back above deck breathing deeply as he did not noticing the tears upon his face or the curses Tia Dalma muttered.

**

Gibbs followed Will Turner above deck deciding now wasn't really the best time for rum. Tia Dalma scared him. As any good superstitious sailor would tell you, a woman aboard ship was bad luck, but a woman voodoo priestess who spoke in riddles and knew how to bring back the dead and retrieve people from places where they shouldn't be retrievable was the worst possible luck! It was beyond comprehension how he always ended up in such predicaments.

He had hoped a bit of rum would bring Jack back from the brink of insanity, but now as he watched his Captain weaving strangely across the deck and deep in conversation with himself, he realized Jack had passed that brink a long time ago.

Turner, lost in thought, sat on the deck nearby, a hand rubbing his chest as though to relieve some pain. Gibbs shook his head. Both women aboard ship seemed enamored of the same man. That had to be bad luck!

He considered the methods of reversing bad luck, but he realized he had no idea if such rituals would work here at World's End.

He decided his best course of action would be to speak to Jack, but he wondered if there was enough of Jack left to speak back.

"This is the last supernatural adventure I will ever undertake," he vowed, spitting on the deck. In the days that followed, the heat made it seem unlikely they'd get out of here, and as he drank the last of the rum, he repeated the vow to himself, only without the spitting, as he had no spit to spare.

**

The _Black Pearl_ sailed through the dark waters paying no mind to what lurked beneath the surface. Souls lost at sea, abandoned by Davy Jones and the _Flying Dutchman_, moved through the water searching for the other side. Pintel and Ragetti, stopped by Tia Dalma from disturbing their passage, brought the attention of the crew to the phenomenon.

Elizabeth saw her father and called to him excited that they'd found him now and certain it meant they'd crossed back over to the real world without realizing it. Tia Dalma's words to the contrary frightened her.

"No! Father! Come aboard!" She pleaded with him barely listening as he explained how he'd died. She kept pace with him, racing along the deck of the ship, her eyes never wavering from his face, desperate to bring him aboard. If they'd saved Jack, couldn't they save her father as well? She could not lose him! He spoke of learning that killing Jones meant taking his place as the Immortal Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_. Some part of her heart screamed at the memory of how close Will had come to doing just that. If Norrington and Sparrow hadn't fought him for the right to the chest, Will would have been lost to her forever.

She'd embraced her adventures with something akin to enjoyment. A secret thrill raced through her as she encountered pirates and outwitted them, as she issued orders to men who'd sailed the seas longer than she'd lived, and as she stood beside the love of her life with the sound of the sea as close as his heartbeat.

She'd handled all the sea and fate could throw at her, but this? This she could not bear! Somehow her involvement with pirates had led her father to his death!

She raced to keep her father in sight, throwing a rope to him and pleading for him to take it up and climb aboard. She was about to fling herself overboard and swim to him, when she felt strong arms grab and hold her. _Will._ She clung to him and cried into his chest, her despair flooding through her. His arms, his chest, were all she knew. Warm, strong, rocking her gently even as he spoke to Tia Dalma, asking what she should have thought to ask, was there a way...

She saw then that he would have done anything for her. If Tia Dalma had spoken of the remotest possibility of saving her father, he would have risked anything, even himself, anything save her alone, to return her father to her. He had always been willing to do anything for her. That's what had brought him to this. He had broken the law, consorted with Pirates--whom he passionately hated—held a gun to his own throat, prepared to be lost at sea, followed Jack to an island of cannibals, squared off against Davy Jones himself...

He'd done it all for her. Not because she would look pretty on his arm, or because his social standing would improve, or because she was the Governor's daughter. He did it because he loved her, and whether she loved him back or thought of him in any way was inconsequential. He did it all for love.

It made her weep all the harder, and she buried her head in his chest, breathing in the scent of him, and letting her heart fill with the love of him. Love she hadn't allowed herself to feel since she'd killed Jack. It felt like coming home.

**

Will held her. It was what he felt he'd been born to do. Tia Dalma's admonition not to allow her to leave the ship had struck fear in his heart. The thought of losing her now was not one he willingly entertained. He held her trying to be of some small comfort to her, but certain he could do nothing to ease the pain she must feel at the loss of her father. In desperation he asked Tia Dalma if there were any way, but her reply seemed only to make Elizabeth sob all the harder. He tightened his grip on her sheltering her from harm, and wishing he could protect her from such hurt. He whispered softly to her, just soft sounds and quiet words to ease her grief, giving her what he'd never gotten no matter what loss he'd ever faced.

He walked with her, moving her away from the sympathetic eyes as well as the curious ones, and easing her steps forward to a secluded corner of the ship. He sat her down on the deck, and let her cry until she could cry no more. When she fell silent, he leaned close to her ear and spoke in a whisper only she could hear. "I'm so sorry, Elizabeth. If there were any way..."

A hand to his lips stopped his words. "That's what you said when Jack died."

He gave her a small nod. "I suppose it is."

"Will..." she paused. "Why do you love me?"

On a day when he thought nothing more could surprise him, this question did. "I...I don't understand. I love you because...I am unable _not_ to." The earnestness in his voice and the illogic of his words made him smile and laugh lightly.

She joined him, but her laughter turned to tears, and she cried herself to sleep on his shoulder.

He held her while she slept wondering if this was the beginning of reconciliation or the end of their relationship. She was his fiancée, but had too much happened for them to marry? Port Royal seemed a world away, and since he'd no idea where they were, it could be in fact.

Would they be able to return? Without the pardons Beckett had offered, they had death sentences on their heads. Could that be expunged? Without Elizabeth's father in their corner, there was no one on whom they might depend for aid in this. Norrington had taken a pardon for himself, but had he left Will and Elizabeth out of his negotiations? He did not expect Norrington to give him a second thought, but what of Elizabeth? He who had professed to love her once...could he have abandoned her?

If they were able to go back to Port Royal, would she desire it? Her father's Governorship was all that kept her there. Would there be too many reminders of her father, of their past to return?

Elizabeth had succeeded in her goal to rescue Jack. He hadn't been able to tell her about his goal to rescue his father. Would she help him? It seemed heartless to him to ask her to help him save his own father when nothing could be done for hers. Did he have the right to ask that of her? What if he failed? If she did not love him enough to marry him, would she join Jack's crew?

It always came back to Jack. Will didn't know whom she loved. He had no idea what life she would choose. Jack could offer her the world. Will could offer her the meager salary of a blacksmith if he ever returned to Port Royal or else found another town in need of one, assuming of course that he could afford to set himself up in business, and he was not hung upon his return.

He stroked Elizabeth's hair as she slept. He pondered these questions and the road he now tread. So absorbed was he that he didn't notice Tia Dalma standing several feet away when the stabbing pain in his heart returned.

**

When Jack Sparrow began to run across the deck, Gibbs was sure the man had lost his mind. He'd been speaking to himself more than was usual for him, and it seemed he was getting answers. In the end, when they were well and truly returned to their own waters, Gibbs laughed at himself for doubting the man. Jack Sparrow was many things, but Gibbs would follow orders from a mad, dead Captain Sparrow before he'd follow orders from many a sane, alive captain. He knew loyalty wasn't something Pirates generally had, but Jack, he was different.

How such a man could inspire a crew of cutthroats to do the impossible was a conundrum. Gibbs knew they still had much to do. They'd saved Jack, but what price had they paid? Jack wasn't exactly himself, and they still had aboard ship a woman voodoo priestess who spoke in riddles and knew how to bring back the dead and retrieve people from places where they shouldn't be retrievable. Besides which, Barbossa and Jack on the same ship was never a good idea. It wouldn't be long, he was sure, before the two were plotting to throw each other overboard.

The crew would back Jack rather than Barbossa, he was sure, but Barbossa seemed awfully chummy with Tia Dalma, and Tia Dalma was awfully chummy with Will Turner. Not that it was his business if Turner chose Dalma over Elizabeth. It did seem out of character though.

Gibbs took a look at Jack, who was smiling and breathing in the fresh salt air as though it were the best thing he'd ever smelled. Gibbs breathed it in himself smiling at the familiarity of it.

He would stay with Jack now until the Good Captain chose to give up the life. Besides which, now that they'd returned to the real world, he could regale people with the tale of how Captain Jack Sparrow returned from Davy Jones Locker...rising from the dead to get even with the Captain of the _Dutchman_. He'd get more free rum than ever the sea turtles story had gotten him!

**

The smell of salt on the air and the tang of it on the lips combined with the slight breeze coming from starboard to ease Jack's mind. He had finally convinced himself he wasn't in the locker any longer because hallucinations in the Locker were never this comfortable or pleasant. No, this was real. The locker was behind him, and ahead of him was open sea. He wasn't sure the Brethren Court was a good idea, but he'd say his piece once he got there. Certainly all nine would never agree to any one course of action. He simply had to find a way to manipulate the situation so it worked out as he wished. He had to get aboard the _Flying Dutchman_ at some point. He had a score to settle with Davy Jones, and now that he'd had time to think on it, Captain of the _Dutchman_ seemed a fine career move. Ten years at sea was nothing to him. All he had to do was sneak aboard, find the chest, stab the thump-thump and Bob's your uncle!

The crew would have Barbossa to look after them, which left Elizabeth and Will. They'd have to find passage to somewhere, but he imagined he could trail the _Pearl_ and threaten Barbossa with the _Dutchman _until the man took the couple wherever they needed to go. Maybe they'd join the _Pearl's_ crew...but no, Barbossa wouldn't willingly take either of them on; too much chance of either one being made captain.

Thoughts of the crew and Will and Elizabeth reminded him of what they'd been through. He'd been surprised that they'd come for him. That had been the hardest thing about the experience to accept. His crew, they were pirates. They lived by the credo take what you can and give nothing back, and, if they followed the code, a pirate never purposely saved the life of another pirate.

He knew there were ulterior motives here. He wasn't sure what the crew wanted, but it was likely linked with Barbbossa's tale of the Brethren Court. Elizabeth, the distressing damsel herself, was likely trying to assuage her guilt at being the cause of his untimely demise. He'd called her a pirate, and would do so again, but while he believed she could be ruthless when she had to be, as she'd proven, he wasn't sure she'd understood how it would feel to have blood on her hands. She had a lot to come to terms with.

Then there was Will. Elizabeth was not missing or otherwise imperiled, so what did he want? It had to be Bootstrap. He'd said as much once before when Jack had stopped him from stabbing Davy Jones' heart. He wouldn't rest until he'd freed Bootstrap Bill from the _Flying Dutchman_. How did he think Jack could help him do that? First off, there was the Brethren Court to worry about, and then, finding the _Dutchman_ was never easy...of course if he could get the _Dutchman_ to come to the Brethren Court, that might make things easier. He could turn Bill over to his son, while he took the _Dutchman_. He'd miss the _Pearl_, but Immortality was hard to pass up.

He was about to search out Will and talk to him about plans, when he happened upon Gibbs. He had a rapt audience and was telling tales again. Jack smiled. Gibbs was an artist when it came to story telling. He listened for a moment, and realized this wasn't tall tales. This was gossip.

"The lad is over there now, one cradled in 'is arms, and the other kissing him hard!"

"What?" Sparrow asked, his voice a squeak.

Gibbs whirled as if shot. "Sorry, Captain. It's Will. He's down below. He's been a right Pirate lately! Relations with the fair Elizabeth have been, well, strained I guess you'd say, and I've seen him a number of times with Tia Dalma!"

Jack Sparrow ran. He was off and racing for the bunks as if the Kraken were back on his tail. Arms flailing, legs churning, hair flying, he didn't even pause when his hat flew from his head.

He found them in an odd tableau. Will was holding fiercely onto Elizabeth, and Jack wondered how it was she hadn't woken. Tia Dalma knew her way around a sleep potion of course, and that was the most likely explanation. Will was resisting Tia Dalma, and that act alone garnered Jack's admiration. Tia Dalma was trying to draw the lad away from Elizabeth.

"You should have made your move when he wasn't with her," he smiled a crooked smile at the woman, and she whirled to face him, though her hands never left Will's face and chest.

"Dere's naught you can do! This one will be mine, Jack Sparrow! "

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow."

Tia Dalma smiled. "Ah, Jack, we saved you from de locker, and now you see, I need payment. I always demand payment."

"Was this payment negotiated before you set sail?"

"Of course it was."

Jack bit back a curse. How could Barbossa be so...."Hector was in on this...let you have the lad, and what? Thinks you want a plaything? Is that it? You're looking for more than that, and we both know it. Why do you need him?"

"I want dis one, Jack. 'im is a pure one...do nothin' by 'alf measure. 'im put 'im heart and soul in all 'e do. It is a passion I want!"

"You've tried this before. It didn't work!"

"You weren't de one! Dis one is!"

"You don't know that!"

"You've suspected it yourself! You tried once to find de boy, but too late you were! Barbossa and 'im Pearl got dere first!"

Jack's face hardened at her words. "_The Pearl_ is mine."

She scowled at his words in return. "De _Pearl_ is more den she seems! You know better than anyone!"

"I do. And she's mine. If you expect the support of the Brethren…"

"IF! I bring Barbossa back from death for 'im piece of eight!"

Jack smiled and stepped closer. "Barbossa ain't the only one with a piece of eight."

Tia Dalma's eyes blazed in fury. "You dare 'old back! I will 'ave my desires!"

Jack smiles, his eyes dancing. "Aye, you do. We all do. It's satisfying them that's the tricky part" He held up a hand to ward off the words she would have spat at him. "And you'll be satisfied. I'll see that you are. _If _you let him go."

Tia Dalma's rage brought the hand above Will's heart into a fist. Will began to tremble, and Jack took a step forward, but was stopped in his tracks by a look from the woman. "I 'ave been denied too long! De Brethren will do as I demand!"

Will screamed in pain, snapping Elizabeth awake, and bringing Jack forward another step.

"Don't do anything hasty, Tia Dalma! You might need him! We haven't freed you yet, and he's part of my plans! At least wait until the Brethren Court is convened to claim him!"

Elizabeth stared at Jack. "What are you promising?" she shrieked.

Jack shushed her with a wave of a hand. "Come on, love," he said practically purring at Tia Dalma. "You've waited so long, you can wait a bit longer."

She paused and seemed about to acquiesce when she made a move as if to push Will down.

Jack closed the distance between them and took her wrist. His eyes held a fury of their own that so shocked Tia Dalma that she stepped away from Will. He immediately slumped forward, but Elizabeth caught him and eased him down onto the bunk.

Jack stared into the dark depths of Tia Dalma's eyes. "If you try to take him now, I'll never vote your way, and I'll make it a stipulation, legal and binding with Captain Teague, that my piece _never_ be used in your favor no matter the possessor of said trinket. Now..." Jack leaned down so his face hovered by hers. His eyes locked on hers, unblinking and hard. "Leave. Him. Be."

Scowling, she shook off his grip and walked away.

Elizabeth cradled the still hurting Will in her arms. When he continued to moan and failed to respond to her, she turned to Jack. "What was that? What _is_ she? What's she done to him? What did you promise?"

Jack held up his hands in a gesture of surrender before bringing them together in a more prayerful position. "Your William will be fine, love. Let me have a look at him."

He sat down next to William and pried the boy's hands away from his chest where he'd clutched them when he'd been released. "Come along, lad, let Jack take a look." Slowly, Will began to recover his composure, and Jack was able to raise his hands and take a look at his chest. With a sigh very much like relief, he patted the boy on the shoulders. "You'll be fine. No permanent damage."

Will looked down at his chest, and Ellizabeth leaned closer to get a look herself.

"No damage! He's bleeding!"

"No _permanent_ damage! Trust me it could have been a lot worse." He rubbed at his own chest momentarily, before casting an eye to Will's chest, taking in the outline of Tia Dalma's hand, still visible against his skin, and how the edges of it bled ever so slightly. He looked Will in the eye. "You've caught her attention, lad. Tia Dalma has a crush on you. If I'd've been less concerned about that Kraken I might have taken more notice." He looked accusingly at Will. "I did say there'd be no knowing, now didn't I?"

Will was puzzled. "When...what are you talking about, Jack? What's happened?"

"You never can follow a simple story, can you?" Jack sighed. He couldn't hide behind wit or madness. This was not the time. "Tia Dalma is the woman to whom Davy Jones lost his heart…literally."

"She loves Davy Jones?" Elizabeth asked.

"I didn't say that. I said _he _loved _her_. It's complicated. She's not what she seems. I won't say she doesn't love Davy Jones, but I will say she's incapable of endless, abiding, forever sort of love that you two seem to have found." He paused a moment when this didn't get the two to look at each other longingly. "You do still love each other, don't you?"

When neither answered, he grew more frantic. "You _do_ love each other, don't you?"

Before either could confirm or deny, he went on. "We'll sort that out before the end, then. The fact is that Tia Dalma at the very least _lusts_ after our William." He looked to Elizabeth. "At the very least she wants to break you to up and claim him for her own."

"Oh, she does?" Elizabeth whispered, and Jack was glad to note the possessive tone to the voice.

"Aye. She does." He turned to face Will. "I've bought us some time telling her I need you, Will, and so I do."

"Why?"

"I have a plan. We're going to achieve everything on this one, my lad."

Dubious, Will raised an eyebrow and Elizabeth crossed her arms.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Have a little faith! When have I ever led you astray?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened, and Jack raised a hand, waving it slightly in front of her. "No, wait. Don't answer that!"

"Jack…" Will began, then something caught his eye and he moved away from Jack toward the rail. He pointed a short distance away. "Sao Feng's ship!"

Startled, Jack peered intently in the indicated direction. It was Sao Feng's ship, and it was under attack.

"We have to help them, Jack!" Will demanded.

"We can't do much…"

"We can try!"

Jack stared at Will. There was just no convincing the lad of the merits of the Pirate's code. Jack took Will by the arms. "Don't you get it lad? There's nothing we can do!"

"We can't let them die!"

"They'd let you die!"

Will fell silent.

Jack had known the lad would have no answer to that. It was true and they both knew it. Why then, he wondered, was he giving the order to head towards the battle rather than away from it?

Shaking his head, he admitted to himself that somewhere during all his planning and searching, Elizabeth and Will had awakened his conscience. He'd spent so long plotting its demise, and it had risen from the dead. "Just like everything else in my life," he muttered.

To Be Continued


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I am making no money. This is for my own entertainment.

NOTE: I've been told that the DVD of At World's End explains that Will was permitted to leave the Dutchman after the first ten years. This is not enough for me. I still don't believe Elizabeth would accept that or that Will would accept it. Plus I'm just not sure how things stand with the pardons that Will and Elizabeth never received. Regardless, I'm still working to fix this. I may have to write several versions of this before I'm happy.

Beyond World's End

By Ecri

Chapter 5

Jack easily brought the _Pearl_ even with Sao Feng's ship, _Empress_, though Barbossa cursed him and all his unborn children for it. "Sorry, mate. It's out of my hands," Jack admitted, shaking his head. He could see Barbossa's point. They should simply be heading toward the court. Sao Feng was a pirate lord. He could sink or sail under his own power.

Tia Dalma, hearing of the argument, backed Jack. She scowled at Barbossa, shaking her fist at the man and insisting he would do as she willed or she would send him back where she'd found him.

Jack had never seen Hector Barbossa silenced so quickly and effectively. His mouth worked for a while, moving up and down for a bit, but no sound emerged. He turned on his heel and retreated below decks.

Barbossa's departure allowed the crew the luxury of having only one Captain's orders to follow, and Jack took full advantage of the situation. Soon, the Pearl fired cannon at the Endeavor in an attempt to force her to leave Empress alone. Certainly Beckett had to know he couldn't stand up to both pirate ships.

"What's he doing?" Jack mumbled trying in vain to find Beckett's form in the melee. He wouldn't be among the boarding parties. Jack knew that. Beck wasn't much good at a fair fight. He was much better at manipulation and deceit. It was too early in the game for the man to reveal his plan, and Jack knew all the pieces weren't in place yet. So why was Beck attacking Sao Feng?

Jack smiled as he finally understood that piece of the puzzle. Beck was after the pieces of eight. What it was he wanted them for Jack wouldn't speculate. It was enough that he wanted them, and Jack was going to make deadly sure that he was thoroughly disappointed.

He organized boarding parties, and, making sure Will and Elizabeth were with him where he could keep an eye on the pair, they swung across to the _Empress_.

**

The sounds of battle were not so foreign to Elizabeth as they were to most young English ladies of her station. Some part of her heard the clashing of steel against steel, the sound of pistols and cannon firing, and the screams of desperate and dying men, yet she moved with single-minded purpose. She kept an eye on Jack and another on Will as they moved through the pirates and toward Sao Feng. She didn't know why Jack seemed so deliberately to stand by Sao Feng's side, but she and Will took positions nearby as well. Swords at the ready, they fought while Jack called to Sao Feng.

"Beck's after your piece of eight!"

"He is not aboard, though I see the mission to return you from the Locker was successful."

Elizabeth wondered how he could sound so calm and matter of fact about things like that especially in the midst of a battle.

"I know him well enough, mate. He's playing some game and only he knows the rules. If you die, take it with you."

In that instant a small sound, so small it should have been unnoticeable in the cacophony around them, seemed to bring everything to a halt. Sao Feng glanced down at the smallest drop of blood on his chest. He glanced at Jack. "I will pass it along…"

He reached for the nearest body, dragging Elizabeth to his side even as Will cried out in protest.

Elizabeth felt her awareness dwindle until only she and Sao Feng existed. He reached for her hair and held her head with her ear close to his lips. He whispered to her, and her eyes widened at the words, but before she could object, his grip slipped and he fell to the deck. She stared at Jack, who stared back. "He made me Captain."

"What?" Jack and Will said the word together.

"I'm Captain!"

"Right." Jack rolled his eyes. "Then give your orders, Captain."

"Jack! She can't be a Pirate Captain!"

"Why not?" This time Jack and Elizabeth spoke together. Jack was puzzled. Elizabeth was angry.

"Elizabeth, we're already wanted. We're sentenced to hang…"

"Might as well be hung for actually being pirates rather than just for knowin' one, ay?" Jack spoke in his most reasonable voice.

"Will, he made me Captain. I've got to be one at least until we defeat Beckett. He's the one who can pardon us." Elizabeth wanted him to trust her, but she knew she didn't have the right to ask for that. She'd given him no reason to trust her in far too long. To her surprise he nodded once and stepped aside. His actions heartened her until she realized he hadn't met her eyes.

She was distracted from her thoughts when a cry went up. She turned to see the pirates cheering as the Endeavor broke off the attack. She turned to Jack, saw a puzzle on his face as well. "Why?" she asked.

Jack shrugged. "If I could guess that, love, we'd be finished here and celebrating your wedding in Port Royal." He looked her up and down, smiling cheekily. "You're a Captain, now Elizabeth. Make for Shipwreck Cove. The Brethren Court will meet there."

"Jack…we can't leave her here! She can't be the Captain!"

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but Jack beat her to it. "She is Captain. We have to keep her there until after the Court at least."

"Why?"

Elizabeth would have argued that they shouldn't discuss her as though she weren't standing there, but she wanted to hear Jack's answer.

"We still have to free you from Tia Dalma's spell, not to mention achieving the "everything" I mentioned early. I'm wrapping up loose ends here, Will. Don't fight me on it."

"Then I'll stay with her."

"You can't."

"Will, go with Jack back to the _Pearl_." Elizabeth hadn't been prepared for the look Will gave her. Confusion and pain warred in his eyes, and she saw him blink rapidly as he turned away from her. She reached out and took his hand. "Will, Tia Dalma still has some hold on you. You can't stay here. I'll meet you at the Brethren Court." She reached a hand to caress his face and gently forced him to face her. Then she kissed him. Words had only gotten in their way recently, so she willed her kiss to tell him what she'd been unable to say.

When they parted, he stared at her, and she thought she saw understanding in his eyes, but a moment later, he was gone, hurried away by Jack, Gibbs, and Mr. Cotton but protesting all the while and calling out to her.

Elizabeth looked toward her new crew. They looked at her with murder in their eyes. They made no move toward her, and she realized they were waiting for the _Pearl_ to leave. She turned and ran toward the Captain's Cabin, locking herself in.

**

Will stared after her as the _Pearl_ moved away. She could not be taken from his side again! Helplessly, he looked up at Jack, who spared him a sympathetic look, but could do nothing.

Will struggled with the men holding him, but to no great effect. His struggles stopped as a pain lanced through his heart. He doubled over and fell to the deck, hands clutched uselessly to his chest. Writhing in agony, Will brought his hands up to his chest.

"Jack," he called weakly, not knowing who else to turn to for help, but unsure Jack could or would do anything for him.

To his surprise, Jack did do something. He moved to Tia Dalma's side. Will couldn't hear what was said, but he saw Tia Dalma laugh at Jack and caress his chest. Jack caught the wrist and gestured toward Will, and with a suddenness that cut off his breath, the pain stopped.

He struggled again to sit up, and looked at Jack for answers, but he got nothing in response.

Will stared at Jack as the Captain offered a hand to help the boy up.

"I don't understand any of this. What is it Tia Dalma's doing to me? Why would Sao Feng make Elizabeth his successor?"

Jack sighed, and looked Will in the eye. "Don't worry. I can handle Tia Dalma. As for Elizabeth and her new crew, we know where they're going."

"Shipwreck Cove."

"Aye, lad, and we're the fastest ship, so we'll catch them by then."

Will nodded, absent-mindedly rubbing his chest, as he followed Gibbs and the others to prepare to follow Elizabeth.

**

When Jack passed Tia Dalma, he glared at her, but the Priestess only smiled at him. He grabbed her arm. "We had an accord." He was barely controlling his rage, but it only made Tia Dalma laugh.

"Surely, ye don' tink I am bound by such agreements!"

Jack smiled, but there was menace rather than madness in his eyes. "You're bound by this one, Tia Dalma. Don't test me."

The Voodoo priestess tore away from him, indignation raising her voice. "Test you? You are 'ere by _my _whim…"

"Ah! Not whim! Face it, darlin' ye need ol' Jack. If I'd been foresighted and half-witted enough to pass my trinket along to someone before I died, you'd never have come for me. You're not doing this for my benefit, but for your own."

"And why not? Take what ye can…"

"…and give nothin' back! Aye, but you're no pirate. You can't hide behind the code."

"And you can? You know your destiny is greater den dis, but you've turned your back on it!"

Jack released her, surprise showing on his face. "My destiny…"

She laughed. "Did you tink it was over and done wit?"

He took her arm again dragging her a short distance away. "Whatever I thought, we have an accord. You leave young Will alone until after the Brethren Court convenes, or I'll destroy my little trinket before anyone can take it from me and use it to your benefit, savvy?"

He knew by the look on her face that she did. She turned from him and walked away. Jack threw up his hands, and looked to the sky as if in supplication. "A little help wouldn't go amiss!"

**

Will could not be coaxed to cease his vigil. His eyes were stuck to the horizon and he consulted the map again and again, testing the wind, peering worriedly at the sails, and, when he had exhausted every possible task three times over, he paced. His mind raced. Schemes and plots were adjusted and readjusted as he wondered if he would be able to save his father and Elizabeth and somehow find a way to start a life with them.

His distaste for Piracy had never truly left him; the early memories of his ill-fated voyage to the Caribbean had too deeply scarred the boy he'd been. He had somehow convinced himself that good men could be pirates if circumstances forced the issue, but he didn't believe he'd ever be truly happy living a life like Jack's. Attacking, killing, stealing, it was all distasteful to him, and yet he recognized that circumstances had conspired to give him more practice in the art of piracy than he'd have imagined a blacksmith could expect. Both Elizabeth and Jack had called him a pirate, and Jack had gone on about him having Pirate blood. Was it destiny as Tia Dalma hinted that kept him on the sea?

Thinking about it, he would confess that the sea held some captivation for him. There was a delight in sailing he had not recognized when he was a lad…no, that wasn't right. He had begun to recognize it, but the _Black Pearl's_ attack had driven it from him. Before that moment when he'd found himself adrift atop a small bit of wood, he'd begun to enjoy the voyage. Salt air, blue skies…it was invigorating somehow. He remembered England as gray, he realized, and here, in the Caribbean, everything was blue and bright and bold. Well, not everything. He was sure he enjoyed the sea so much because it was such a contrast to his profession. As a blacksmith, he never saw sun and sky. His world was dominated by the smithy. Dark, hot, the flames were the only bright thing within making everything dark and dim by comparison. Except Elizabeth. She'd been his shining star. He took a deep breath intending to savor the salt smell and calm himself.

He felt a dull ache, nothing like the stabbing pain he'd felt before and he massaged his chest just over his heart without conscious thought.

"Pain?"

"Some. Not bad." Will answered without thinking. He should have been startled, but somehow he'd known that Jack had joined him. His eyes snapped to Jack's. "What is it? What's wrong with me?"

"I've tried to tell you, she has a crush on you."

He blinked. "Tia Dalma? What's that got to do with the pain?"

"She's the cause, lad. Does it have to fall from the sky and hit you in the head?" He placed an arm lightly over Will's shoulders. "She's the cause of all of this. She's why I need you to do me a favor."

"What sort of favor?"

"You need to lead Beckett and the _Dutchman_ to Shipwreck Cove."

"How am I supposed to do that? They're out there somewhere." Anger seeped into his voice. "Besides, I won't do anything until we rescue Elizabeth."

"She doesn't need rescuing. She's Captain! Besides, Bootstrap is still aboard the _Dutchman_. If you lead them to Shipwreck Cove, we can rescue them both."

"Just like that? What aren't you telling me?"

"A great deal, as it happens."

Will scowled, but Jack kept talking. "All that matters now is what you can do, and what you can't. Can you trust me one last time, Will?"

"No."

Jack dropped his arm from around Will's shoulders. "All right, I deserved that. I did." He took Will by the shoulders and turned the boy to face him. "Look at me, lad." He waited until Will did. "We've got one last fight. We have to be united in this. We can succeed and achieve all our goals no matter how disparate, but we need to act quickly. Time is running out. What do you say?"

"I want to know everything, Jack."

Jack frowned. "Everything?"

"Aye. Everything."

Jack nodded, all pretense falling away. "All right, if you don't trust me, I'll have to take matters into me own hands."

Before Will could say a thing, Jack thrust his compass into Will's hands and hurled him overboard. Will came up spitting and sputtering, somehow still clinging to the compass and wiping water from his eyes. A moment later, a barrel hit the water, and Will swam to it.

"Jack!" He called out to the Pirate, wondering if he could ever truly trust anyone again. "Why?"

"I'll explain it to ye, lad, at your wedding."

Will shook his head in confusion and exasperation. He'd thought for a moment, Jack was going to tell him, trust him. Why could Jack never tell him everything? His thoughts turned to Elizabeth. She hadn't told him about killing Jack in the first place, so she didn't trust him, either. Was there anyone who did? Was he trustworthy himself? After all, he hadn't told Elizabeth his plans to free his father. Of course, at the time, he thought she was in love with Jack and that he was alone. He still wasn't convinced she wasn't, and he still felt alone, isolated. How could he have shared his plans with someone he'd thought was looking for the opportune moment to break their engagement?

Was it all just excuses? Perhaps Jack and Elizabeth thought they had good reason not to trust him. Perhaps it was a fairy tale to think that people could depend on each other in any circumstance. Perhaps the pirate code was the only rule you needed to get by in life. Take what you can. Give nothing back. Perhaps everything you did was a means to and end. Perhaps he'd been foolish to think otherwise.

No point in trying to get back aboard the _Pearl_. Jack would just throw him overboard again. He checked the compass, thoughts of his father pointing it toward the _Dutchman_, and began to paddle.

**

Sao Feng's appointing her captain was a shock to Elizabeth, but not more so than the sudden appearance of _The Flying Dutchman._

The biggest shock, however, came when she saw Admiral Norrington. She seethed when he mentioned her father.

"My father is dead." She spat the words at him as though he were the cause of them.

"He went to England." His insistence, wide-eyed and almost unshakable, was heartening. At least she knew he hadn't been present when it had happened.

"Did Beckett tell you that?" She saw by his face that he hadn't believed things had gotten that bad. She tried to feel sympathy for him, but hers was spent. It went to her father—dead now—and to Will, struggling to make sense of what was happening, and hurt by her own misdeeds and poorly chosen words.

"Elizabeth, I didn't know." Norrington's words did not appease her.

"What didn't you know? Which side you chose?" She saw the words hit home, and wondered if she preferred to see him like this or as he had been in Tortuga when she'd shattered a bottle across his skull. He'd been more of a man then. Now, he was merely a pawn. By the look on his face, he'd just discovered that, and it didn't sit well with him.

"You know now," she whispered, as she and "her" crew were taken to their cells.

**

Norrington watched Elizabeth being led away, unsure if he should be more focused on her words, or in wondering how in the world the girl had managed to be named Pirate Lord of the South China Sea. She would hang now, surely. Beckett would relish it and the man had already hung anyone who'd even thought the word "pirate" let alone the actual pirates.

What Beckett had invested in this, he couldn't say, but there had to be more to this than met the eye. Beckett had made this a personal vendetta, and while some had said the same of him in his days as Commodore when he'd tried to rid the Caribbean of Pirates, this had the feel of something far more sinister.

Thinking of Beckett only made him recall his intense dislike for the man, and his discomfort whenever he was in Beckett's presence. He'd suspected it was merely his own dislike of being reminded of his shortcomings. Beckett, after all, had restored his career to him only after Norrington had bargained for it…parleying like any good pirate.

Dear God, he'd become a pirate! The very thing he'd hated, and he'd become as ruthless a one as any he'd arrested or hung.

Beckett, however, was something else. He was hiding something, and it was more than a dislike for Piracy. His obsession with holding sway over Davy Jones had been unseemly to say the least. He needed to know more about the man, yet there were precious few he could speak to. Who on his or any crew would actually speak in confidence to an admiral? Always remembering, of course, that he couldn't come out and ask about Beckett as some of his crew could well be loyal to the man, whether by respect, which seemed doubtful, or by profit, which seemed more likely. Had everyone in the British Navy become Pirates?

He cut off the thought. He didn't need to know anymore about Beckett, though he greatly wished to know more. He had all he needed. He would choose sides and then he would worry about Beckett later.

Later, the Commodore stared at his distorted reflection in the blade as he polished his sword. He tried to see what Elizabeth had seen. She had recoiled upon the recognition of his uniform. Admiral. She'd known instantly he had bargained for his rank. He had bargained to regain his life, and he had done it by the blood of others. The men of the _Dutchman_, if men they could be called, were the least of his victims. Elizabeth herself, along with Will Turner, had been denied the letters of mark because he'd taken them to barter a reversal of his own fortune. He'd cared nothing for Elizabeth and Will Turner. He'd not even attempted to save either of them…the woman he'd professed to love, promised to marry and to provide for. He'd assumed Sparrow would keep them safe. Did that make him a monster? He snorted. Not hardly. And yes.

He had chosen sides that day upon the gallows when he'd permitted Sparrow a day's head start, and when he had not insisted on pressing charges against Will Turner. He had told himself he'd done it for Elizabeth…for love of the woman who would rather woo a blacksmith…and yet, there was more to it than that. It had been the right thing. Too often, the right thing and the proper thing did not coincide. He had lost track of how many times Duty had required that he compromise his ideals.

That was why he'd hated Will Turner so much. The damnable boy…he shook his head. _Man._ The damnable _man_ had been unwilling to back down from his one true goal. For Elizabeth, everything for Elizabeth.

Both he and Mr. Turner had been willing to do much for Elizabeth. Both were willing to kill for her, to die for her, but Will Turner was willing to break the law for her. He was willing to deal with Pirates whom he'd always purported to despise to the core of his soul. He was willing to allow her to marry another man without saying a word. He was willing to betray his own ideals secure in the knowledge that ideals meant nothing in comparison to the life and happiness of his one true love.

Norrington had known before Elizabeth had that the boy loved her. He could not be blind to something so obvious. That morning after The Black Pearl had raided Port Royal and taken Elizabeth with him, the boy's only thought had been for her. When he'd finally managed to speak the words just before he rescued Jack Sparrow from the gallows, only Elizabeth had been surprised. He'd considered it absurd that a blacksmith might be taken seriously as a proper suitor, but once he'd heard the words, he'd known he'd lost her.

That had been the beginning of his end, and yet, could he truly say he loved her? He shook his head as he slipped the sword into its scabbard. He didn't love her the way that Will did. That was all Elizabeth needed to know.

He doubted he would live long enough to put his life right, but he did know something. He had to make a start. He had to choose sides and consequences be damned. He had to see for himself that James Norrington was a man of integrity, and not some Courtier buying favor and position.

Decision made, he went in search of supplies.

**

Jack Sparrow's eyes were closed as he inhaled the scent of the sea. It was one he loved like Will loved Elizabeth. He had missed it from the Locker. Funny, he'd always assumed the Locker was the sea, and then, once stuck inside it, it had been bone dry.

He and Barbossa had stopped bickering over orders, mostly because none had to be given. The crew was tending the ship, the course was plotted, and the weather was fair. If it hadn't been for their ominous destination, it would almost be a pleasant excursion.

_Pleasant except for the fact that you threw young Turner off the ship to face Beckett and Jones all on his onesies._

"That's all part of the plan. He'll be well."

_Will he? Were you well in Beckett's hands?_

Jack sighed and turned away from the horizon speaking out loud as though hearing the words rather than thinking them might make them truer. "That was different! Besides, Will's stronger than me. He'll be fine."

_Keep telling yourself that._

"I'm keeping him away from Tia Dalma. He won't feel her there." He waited a beat, but as he'd apparently no reply to that remark he grinned. "That shut me up," he mumbled.

Sparrow didn't want to think about what he'd done to Will. Too often, it seemed, he'd ended up using the lad. To be fair, he'd never intended for him to stay aboard the _Dutchman_ when he'd sent him across to settle his debts, but he had thought to use him to distract Jones. In his desperation, he'd tricked Will, but he'd tried, had felt a different desperation, to get Jones to agree to letting him take Will with him while he searched for 100 souls to replace his own.

He'd never dreamed the boy would find his father—old Bootstrap Bill himself!—aboard the ship. He'd never dreamed Bootstrap was still alive, and that upon meeting him, Will would make some foolish vow to release him from Jones' power.

Sparrow didn't like to lose, and he wasn't willing to concede that he could end up responsible for taking Will's life. "He'll be fine." He repeated, and he forced all the confidence and conviction into the words that he could muster.

**

Norrington had no cause to sneak around the _Dutchman_. He moved with the authority of the Crown, after all. Perhaps he'd felt like a fraud since bartering with Beckett for his commission, but he would not appear a fraud. Appearance, if you were to ask Norrington's father, was everything. James Norrington had begun to suspect that substance meant a good deal more.

As he approached the _Dutchman_'s brig, he reviewed the plan in his mind. Everything was in place. If Elizabeth would simply be reasonable, he suppressed a snort at the notion, he might be able to pull this off.

Elizabeth was not being reasonable.

"What are you doing here?"

There were so many answers to that question it did not bear scrutiny. He settled for the obvious. "Choosing sides."

Elizabeth's eyes were not forgiving, but they did allow for something he had not considered: acceptance. She would accept this and deal with his treachery later. He wondered why he felt grateful.

He hustled them out of the brig…the Pirate Captain Elizabeth Swann and her Pirate crew…and directed them silently to the deck.

On the way, Elizabeth whispered to him, and again he felt a disconcerting flash of gratitude.

"We must get to the Brethren Court," she insisted. "Where are the _Dutchman_ and the _Endeavor _headed?"

"The Brethren Court."

She stopped in her tracks, and Norrington took her arm dragging her along. "We do not have time for this, Elizabeth."

"The _Endeavor_…he hopes to destroy the Brethren Court."

"Not at all," Norrington sniffed. "He intends to destroy every Pirate he can find." He stopped then himself and caught her eye. "He will succeed." He moved, dragging her twice as fast.

Infuriatingly, frustratingly, she allowed the pirates to escape first. That she took her responsibilities as Captain seriously did not surprise him, but to think that she stood here and allowed men who would gladly leave her for dead—or worse—to escape before her set his teeth to grinding. They used the rope as though quite accustomed to it, and for all he knew they were. Was Elizabeth, he wondered, and he found himself anticipating her climb to ascertain if this could be another skill she'd picked up since last he'd seen her. He'd cursed himself a coward, but he had not been able to stay and watch her marry Will Turner. He'd lost his career to a pirate and Elizabeth to a blacksmith, but there was no reason he had to be cordial about it.

Resigning his commission in disgrace was not his idea. Leaving Port Royal was. Beckett had forced the resignation on him by hinting that charges of aiding Jack Sparrow would be dropped if he were to resign. He'd been unable to do that and remain in Port Royal. It was more than he could bear to remain, to see Elizabeth marry another, and to do it as a civilian.

The Royal Navy had been his every ambition and he'd done everything he could to acquit himself well. Beckett had stolen that from him, but it wasn't until he saw Elizabeth a few days ago and she'd talked to him about choosing sides that he realized Beckett hadn't taken his self-respect. He'd handed that over willingly when he'd handed over that accursed chest.

Elizabeth grabbed his hand. "Come with us."

Oh, but it was a tempting offer. His heart leaped in joy to hear that from her, but he knew she was only offering a way to escape Beckett. Her heart belonged to Will Turner. Still, he considered it. Why should he not? If he went along, he could protect her virtue from the scallywags with whom she sailed.

"Go," he said. "I'll follow."

"You're lying."

He sighed in exasperation, and then, whether because of the dire circumstances, or because he was not the man he once was, he kissed her.

Passion, desperation, regret, sorrow, and elation all mingled with that kiss, and when he pulled away, he spoke again. "Go, Elizabeth." _Go aboard your vessel. Go and save your pirate friends. Go and marry Will._

"No! James, please. Don't stay here. They will kill you."

He laughed. "I'm a dead man, anyway, Elizabeth. There is no way to put my life back together. "

"Just as there is no way to retrieve the dead?"

"Elizabeth…"

"Please, James."

The use of his Christian name was his undoing. Perhaps she'd known that. Perhaps she was more calculating than he'd thought.

He smiled at her and found himself scrambling after her on the rope, slowly making his way to a ship captained by the only woman he'd ever intended to marry. He would stand by her side even if he did not believe they could defeat the _Dutchman_ and her crew. An undead crew, he had learned long ago, was nigh unstoppable.

**

Beckett stared at his men as they pulled a man out of the water. They were bound by maritime law to see who it was and discover if there had been a shipwreck. If assistance were needed, he'd be bound to offer it to any survivors.

He despised being bound to anything at all, and only stopped because he thought the man in the water might be useful.

His eyes narrowed as the bedraggled and dripping man before him shook his own black hair from his face revealing….

"William Turner. Arrest him!" He snapped the order, and before it died on his lips, William Turner was clapped in irons.

"Parlay!" The boy spoke.

"This is no Pirate ship. We do not recognize that code."

"I have something you want."

"I doubt that." He began to turn away, but the next words stopped him.

"I can take you to them…all the pirates, gathered in one place."

Beckett turned back to face him, his face betraying nothing.

Turner stood there dripping on his deck offering him all he wanted. He didn't like it. It gave the boy too much leverage. He turned to the men holding the prisoner. "Take him to the brig. I'll join you there shortly."

He watched the boy struggle and try to call out to him, but his men were too good to let that go unpunished. They were dragging an unconscious body to the brig by the time Beckett returned to his cabin for tea.

Beckett contemplated the boy's words. This could be what it appeared or it could be a ruse. He would have to tread carefully. Davy Jones and the Dutchman would be of no help here. If Will Turner had ever had any worth to Beckett at all, it was in his ability to lead him to Jack Sparrow, and since Sparrow had been killed by Jones' Kraken, there was little Turner could offer…except, where had he been since Sparrow's death? He hadn't returned to Port Royal. He'd kept an eye on the ports hoping the boy would be foolish enough to try to return and bargain for leniency for himself and his would-be bride.

Sparrow dead was not something he wished to learn of third hand, but Turner could give him something almost as good. If he were even remotely telling the truth, then all of the Pirates, and he'd need the boy to clarify and specify, were amassing just as Beckett had planned. It had taken long enough for those damnable pirates to begin singing that damnable song before he'd killed them, and briefly, Cutler Beckett had wondered if that portion of his plan had been about to fall apart. The book had been right, however. It had never failed him once over the years, and truthfully, he'd been working too long at this to take it well if it had failed now.

Beckett could easily take every pirate down with Jones' ship. Even without the Kraken, Jones and his otherworldly crew could easily intimidate any Pirate on the sea. It was the reputation of the _Dutchman_; the fear it could strike in the hearts of men.

He sipped his tea, but replaced his cup without finishing. He had a prisoner to interrogate.

To Be Continued


	6. Chapter 6

I am making no money. Just having a bit of fun.

NOTE: Thanks for the reviews. Please keep them coming.

Beyond World's End

By Ecri

Chapter 6

The _Endeavor _had dropped anchor. Beckett refused to budge until Will Turner was properly interrogated. Will sputtered as he was hit again, wondering if the Singapore pirates had influenced Beckett or if the reverse were true.

"I have a-already t-told B-Beckett where the Pirates c-convene their c-court!" He cursed the weakness that forced a stutter from him, but the continuous beatings, the dunkings in salt water until he swore he'd swallowed an ocean had taken a toll. He was weary beyond belief. He only survived by thinking of Elizabeth. Unsure if she was his or if she would pledge herself to Jack once the _Pearl_ caught up with the _Empress_, he could not deny his love for her. Reason could not turn love into hate or despair. Logic could not release Love's hold upon his heart. He was hers even if she were not his. With nothing else to cling to, he found it impossible not to cling to her.

Yes, he wished to free his father, but he could not sustain his will to live on a dream he had but barely tasted. The dream he had for Elizabeth had been in his heart for half his life. It was not soured by recent events.

The men did not answer him, and he found himself relieved when Beckett entered the brig.

"I trust your accommodations are comfortable."

Will glared. "I have told you what you need to know!"

"Yes. You have. My concern is what you thought was in it for you."

"I told you! I bargain for my father's life and for myself and Elizabeth!" His confusion as to why this was happening was apparent as he struggled to learn why he was being mistreated when he had come to offer all Beckett wanted.

"Ah, yes. You mentioned that. I somehow doubt you, _boy_." Beckett sneered.

Will would have taken a step toward the man, but he was restrained and unable to stand unless supported. "I have dealt in good faith. Why have you not?"

Beckett seemed bored. "I knew your father. Did you know that?"

"Of course you do. He serves on the _Dutchman_." Will replied.

"I didn't say I _know_ him. I said I _knew_ him. Not since he joined the _Dutchman_'s crew, but long ago. Before there was ever a curse on Aztec gold."

Will blinked away the water still dripping into his eyes from the most recent dunking. Shock stole his voice. He could not respond.

Beckett smiled, but it was a joyless thing. Feral, dark, deceptive, it represented only a pleasure at causing pain, confusion, and death. "Your father. Surely you expected by now that we were friends, Sparrow, Turner, Barbossa, and myself."

Will had known, of course, that others must have known his father aside from the crew of the _Pearl_, but Beckett…friends with his father and with Jack? Consternation turned to defiance. "You lie!"

"Do I?" Beckett turned to the other men in the room. "Secure him and go."

The men holding Will up tied him to the wall and left. Will struggled as best he could, but he was nearly spent. He'd been adrift in the sea overnight before Beckett had found him at dawn. It had been a most unpleasant night, clinging to a barrel with a dead man tied to it, paddling for all he was worth in an attempt to move swiftly and not think about the sharks whose fins he saw peeping above the waterline from time to time.

Before that, sailing to World's End to find Jack Sparrow…and brooding over the kiss he'd seen Elizabeth and Jack share…the emotional turmoil had left him well and truly spent. Now, hearing more information about his father from a stranger…no, not a stranger--an enemy…did not sit well with him.

As he struggled feebly against his bonds, Beckett approached him and took his face roughly in his hand. Venomous, Beckett stared into Will's eyes. "You seek to free the man from Davy Jones' service, but it is all that he deserves."

Will struggled, but could not tear away. "What my father has or has not done is irrelevant to my vow." Determination flashed in his eyes succeeding where struggle failed. Beckett released him. "I will save him from the _Dutchman_. He will be free."

Beckett smirked recovering himself. "The _Dutchman_ is a doomed vessel."

"That's a matter of degrees. The men who serve Jones have made their deals with him. If he were to die…"

"Someone would have to take his place."

That was what Governor Swann had said. He narrowed his eyes and looked intently at Beckett. "Is that true, or did you simply lie to Governor Swann as you killed him."

"How did you…?" Beckett cut himself off, and Will smiled triumphantly. Beckett would wonder how he'd come by the information, and he had been so surprised, he'd been unable to deny the accusation of murder. Somehow, someday, that admission might be important. He might use it to cleanse the reputation of the Governor, or as leverage against Beckett at some future date. Mentally, he also groaned at the realization that he was thinking more like Jack.

Beckett turned his back on the boy for a moment. "Your loyalty is pointless. None return it. Your woman has abandoned you. She would have returned to England while you were off looking for Sparrow in order to free her."

Will's eyes widened slightly, and he realized that his surprise at the information had been Beckett's goal. He could not believe that Elizabeth would abandon him. He shook off the doubts that whispered to him, and blinked to bring his emotions under control.

"Your father has abandoned you more times than I could count. Do you think he ever spared you a thought…?"

"I do not care to hear your words, Beckett. I have told you, my father's actions are irrelevant to my own. As are Elizabeth's. And Jack's. I do what I do for myself. Because to do otherwise betrays me as well as them."

"Then, Mr. Turner, you are a fool."

"I have been called worse. I have told you everything you need to find the Brethren Court. Release me."

Beckett laughed again, and Will was reminded of Barbossa's crew when he had threatened them for Elizabeth's release only to be forced to offer himself since he had nothing else of value but the blood of Bootstrap Bill Turner.

"I may release you, _whelp_."

Will sighed mentally at the slight that seemed to follow him everywhere.

"But if I do release you, it will be at a time and place of my choosing and not on your demand."

**

The _Black Pearl_ made her way in silent solitude to Shipwreck Cove. Her black prow cut through the black water leaving no sign of her passing. Jack and Barbossa prepared to meet the court, but Jack first scanned the area, eyes searching for Sao Feng's vessel and for the _Endeavor_. Elizabeth and Will would need saving, and he was the only one to do it. He told himself that Will was safe. He went with the offer of information. He had leverage. There would be no need to harm him. Jack was doing his best to ignore the fact that Beckett didn't need anything mundane like reasons to harm people. He rubbed ruefully at the brand on his wrist that was proof of that. Even with those not quite acknowledged dangers, it was Elizabeth who was a concern. Jack realized now he should have left someone aboard with her. Will had been right. Leaving her alone with Sao Feng's men had been a mistake. Would they have permitted her to hold onto her ship? Jack had been the victim of mutiny before, and he dreaded the thought of what mutiny against a female captain might entail.

Whatever it was, he prepared himself for Will's demands that they find her and save her as soon as he made his way back to the _Pearl_. He'd likely be back aboard once the Brethren Court returned to their respective ships.

His eyes scanned the horizon. They should be at the Cove soon enough. He could make out the shadowy outline of it all just a bit ahead, though the moonlight was less than bright tonight.

He wasn't best pleased about the way things with Tia Dalma were going. He had to persuade her she was less interested in Will Turner than she thought she was. If only he had some idea if there were someone else nearby to whom the lady's affections might be transferred.

He shuddered at the notion of anyone being at her mercy as he had once been, least of all Will, but if it were someone like Beckett, he wouldn't shed a tear. His thoughts cast back to that time long ago when he'd managed to betray Beckett and save his own skin…though the betraying had been Beckett's goal initially. He'd plotted for Tia Dalma to gain Jack's company for eternity.

That was what she wanted now from Will.

It was weeks after Jack had gained the compass. He and his crew had sailed in search of treasure, though Jack's reading of the infernal device left a great deal to be desired. He'd pointed them in an endlessly altering set of directions and finally found one meager treasure. It had whetted the appetites of every pirate aboard, but Jack had been unable to find a second one. In desperation, he'd sailed for Tia Dalma once again.

Beckett had more to do with that decision than Jack liked to admit, but the man had a devious streak that Jack would envy in later years. The man had whispered in Jack's ear, spoken up loudly when able, and had manipulated Jack into believing that returning to Dalma had been his own idea. In fact, Beckett had made a deal with the woman.

Jack was the bone of contention.

Returning to the swampy, eerily lit area Tia Dalma called home, Jack had felt a sense of doom descending upon him. It was Bootstrap Bill who had asked him about it.

"But Jack," Bill whispered, "you act as though you don't want to be here."

"Of course I want…" He stopped. Did he want to be there? He had thought…what? That Tia Dalma might explain the use of the compass better than she had before? That she might offer him something of more use than a compass that pointed to what you wanted?

Bill had been right to worry, and once again, if it had not been for Bootstrap Bill, the Legend of Captain Jack Sparrow would have been finished before it was written.

Jack had stormed into Dalma's shack and when he'd seen her, he forgot all else. Yet, it had seemed he was watching events unfold rather than participating in them. He could not recall if anyone else had accompanied him into the dwelling, but all he saw was Tia Dalma. She moved toward him, her body swaying hypnotically, and before he could be aware of anything at all he was hers. Even now he could only recall snatches of what Bootstrap Bill later told him had been days. One particularly enduring flash appeared to him even now at least several times a year. She stood above him, her hand resting on his chest, a faint outline of blood surrounding her dark skin to discolor his tanned chest. The pain he recalled vividly.

Another flash…Beckett had appeared and was arguing with her as Jack lay spent and exhausted, paralyzed by some unnatural means, on the floor of the shack. He heard a loud crash and forced his head to turn seeing the book Beckett had thrown at Tia Dalma and which now lay open very close to him.

There were words, and at first, Jack had thought the book must be upside down, but then he realized they were in another language. One he recognized. He wasn't fluent by any means, but he'd been to Singapore and had seen the words written there, though he knew they were not of the language that Sao Feng spoke. He could pick out enough. What he saw enraged him.

Fury set him free.

His eyes were locked on words he should not have been able to read, yet the ones he had recognized had given him enough of an idea of what was happening. Now, he spoke the few words he could read…centered on the facing page, he muttered the language and, though he could manage little more than a whisper, his own rage and fear at what these two planned to do gave the words resonance.

Their attention, fixed until then on each other, was drawn to him as the last word echoed through the room.

"No!" Tia Dalma screamed, her anguish and frustration piercing his heart though not enough to make him regret what he'd done.

Beckett's words were more colorful, but no less vehemently uttered. He threw himself across the room, reaching out to the book, but Jack, uttering the words that countered everything that had been done to him and more, stood and scooped up the book on his own. His eyes blazed in understanding of the evil the pair had plotted as he snapped the book shut in one hand.

"Well, now." He stared at the two for a moment, allowing his own venom to seep into his tone. "That's interesting." He strode up to Beckett and was gratified to see the man actually take a step backwards as though afraid of him.

Jack stopped, his eyes never moving. "What is it? You want my ship?"

Cutler Beckett laughed. It was a hearty laugh, full of disbelief and malice. "Your problem, Jack, is that you think so small."

"Your problem, Cutler, is that you don't comprehend the beauty of having a ship of your own." Jack spat the words, not sure why Beckett would be plotting against him if not to get his ship.

Beckett walked slowly toward Jack, his own eyes almost black in the dimly lit room. "I don't want your ship," he sneered. "I want it all."

"All?" This puzzled Jack. He waved one hand in vague motions in the air. "When you say all, what is it you mean, exactly?"

"All. Everything. Supreme power. To rule the seas, and everything upon them, in them, on them, or near them."

"Looking for Godlike omnipotence, then, are you? Well, mate, that would take some doing…and I don't see how making me hers…" His eyes slipped back to Tia Dalma and realization smacked him more fiercely than any of his female acquaintances had ever done. "You need her." He stared at Tia Dalma. "I was the price for giving him this? You can't give him this! It can't be within your powers or you'd have freed yourself long ago!"

She moved silently toward him, her face wet with what might have been spent tears or perhaps something else entirely. Her pace was languid and deliberate. "I cannot free myself, Jack Sparrow, but I can grant 'im what 'im needs to know to be welcome to de family of de Gods."

"Ah, so…polytheism is your cup of tea…again, that's interesting, but," he looked Beckett in the eyes. "You're no god, mate."

Cutler Beckett turned red, then purple. "I will be."

"You don't have it in you." Jack insisted shaking his head. Beckett moved swiftly, drawing his pistol and aiming it at Jack's heart. Jack was unarmed, but for the book, and just as he was about to throw it, a shot rang out. He heard a scream, but his eyes were closed and it took him a moment to accept that he had neither screamed nor fallen to the floor writhing in agony. Cautiously, he opened one eye to see Beckett cradling his bleeding right arm against his chest and glowering at Bootstrap Bill Turner, who stood above the man, his own gun still smoking and aimed at Tia Dalma.

He'd left Beckett there with Tia Dalma, though he'd taken the book with him. He told them it was the payment he demanded for being used. Tia Dalma had intended to make Jack her immortal lover, tied to her forever, and able only to do her whim until such time as she grew weary of him or found someone new. The book held the spell that would have bound him to her, and much more besides. Godhood for Beckett, immortal servitude for himself, and one step closer to Tia Dalma's freedom if Beckett had indeed agreed to give her his vote in the Brethren Court as soon as he had commandeered the _Pearl_.

The _Pearl_ was not his ultimate goal, but she was a step toward achieving everything he and Tia Dalma had wanted.

Ultimate domination had been Beckett's goal from the beginning. What Jack had forgotten was that when Bootstrap Bill had shot Beckett's right arm, Beckett had vowed revenge on _both_ Bill and Jack.

Suddenly, Jack wished for nothing else but the sight of Will Turner safe and whole before his eyes. Instead, he'd stupidly sent the boy to face his father's oldest enemy. He forced his eyes upwards and whispered to the heavens. "Look after him," then, realizing that sounded more like an order than a request he added, "please."

**

Captain Elizabeth Swann. It rolled off the tongue rather nicely, thought the newly appointed Captain. As her ship made way for the Brethren Court, she turned to face the only person aboard newer to the experience than she. "James," she called to him, glad beyond words to have a familiar face beside her once more. "Thank you."

Norrington looked like a lost man. His eyes were full of regret, and impulsively, Elzabeth took his hand. "Really, James, I must thank you. There was no way out for me. Without your help..."

He interrupted her. "Where did it all go wrong for us, do you think?" He paused, his eyes faraway, yet still drinking in the depths of hers.

"We were a good match. Everyone said so. Was it me, Elizabeth?"

She shook her head sadly. "No, James, no. You are a good man..."

He laughed. "You didn't think so aboard the _Dutchman_."

"You were my captor."

He nodded. "That's all I ever was. I trapped you into marrying me." He cut her off as she opened her mouth to protest. "You know it's true. You would never have agreed to marry me if you could have found some other way to rescue the blacksmith."

"His name is Will Turner."

"I know his name." Norrington didn't try to hide the bitterness in his voice as his eyes turned to hers, and she could see the pain in them now. Pain caused by having everything you thought you wanted within your grasp and losing it for no reason that you could discern.

"Oh, James…" she whispered the words not really knowing what to say to him.

"I have lived my life by half-measures," he told her. "I see it clearly now. Everything so calculated, so precise." He looked her in the eye, his hands gripping her shoulders, and she found herself unable to look away. "I will help you, Elizabeth. My career in the Royal Navy, may never recover, but to make ammends for my deeds, I will help you to wed your Will Turner." He hugged her then, and she returned it wondering how scandalous her father would see such an embrace, and then wishing she hadn't thought of him, since she still had no time for grief.

When they finally parted, she took his face in her hands. "You are a good man, James Norrington. Remember that."

He nodded, but she could see he didn't believe it. Desperate to give him some modicum of comfort, she told him the only thing she could think of. "My father always admired you, James. He always said what a good man you were, and he wrote many letters on your behalf to London...he...always said, he s..." and suddenly the words caught in her throat. She could no longer speak of her father without acknowledging that he was gone.

James, further proving himself in her eyes, embraced her firmly, whispered shushing sounds in her ear, and let Captain Elizabeth Swann cry on his shoulder.

**

Her tears should have been his undoing. His own grief at the thought that he had somehow caused her father's death, by action or inaction, had blossomed deep within his gut the moment he'd learned of it. Now, as he held her, he realized he was feeling oddly…empowered. He had purpose once more, and he would see his task done before he succumbed either to the Royal Navy's punishment or to God's judgment.

He pulled slightly away from her and peered down into her tear-streaked face. "Elizabeth, may I assume you know the reason for the Brethren Court being called?"

Elizabeth shook her head. I know Barbossa is involved…"

"Barbossa? Isn't he dead?"

She shook her head. "Not anymore. Nor is Jack. We…brought him back."

Norrington blinked a few times staring at her and unsure what to make of her words. Back? From the dead? "You brought him back?"

"It's a long story, James, and we don't have the time for it just now."

He nodded. "Well, then, Captain Elizabeth Swann, what are your orders?"

"You outrank me, Admiral."

He shook his head, raising a hand to linger on her cheek and brushed the last of her tears away. "Not aboard your own ship, and certainly not among a pirate crew. They will not heed my orders."

"We'll be lucky if they heed mine."

"Give the orders, Elizabeth. Say the words like you know they have no choice but to make your desires into reality and they will heed you." His eyes, sad and despondent as they saw not her, but some imagined moment from a dream or a wish, cleared as he blinked them and stepped away, hands behind his back as though awaiting her orders.

Elizabeth grinned and set to work.

Norrington watched her. She seemed in her element. She seemed more at home here, commanding Malaysian pirates on the open sea, than she'd ever seemed at a formal tea in Port Royal. The one place he couldn't imagine her was in a smithy keeping house and making babies.

He pushed the thought from his mind. It was unkind and even unseemly to imagine a lady of her standing in such an intimate way: never mind that she could have been his wife by now.

Norrington could not help but wonder, when things went drastically wrong, was it possible to set them right, or were there only dreams, regrets and what ifs to ponder for all eternity?

**

That the Brethren Court had agreed to meet was in itself unusual, but the need to stop what seemed to be the inexorable demise of Piracy had called for some sort of stand. Would they, Barbossa wondered, be wiling to make the stand he intended? Tia Dalma was a wild card. She had her own agenda, but he was sure she hadn't been entirely honest about it. He had little choice in the matter, however. It was the pact he'd made for his resurrection. Tia Dalma had brought him back from beyond, but the first thing he'd seen was her face inches from his own. She had taken no chances. He'd been tied and she'd held a knife to his throat and a gun aimed at his chest. He had to support her or she would destroy him, and he knew she didn't need the knife and gun to do it. It was a debt he had to pay in order to gain his freedom. Failure meant either death or indentured servitude to Tia Dalma until such time as she was released…or perhaps in perpetuity.

The Brethren gathered, and in order to achieve his goals, he had to take control. He did just that. Blustering about and declaring the best possible course of action, moving things along so quickly and rushing

everyone through...he felt confident that he would be victorious.

The Pirate Lords were an ornery bunch, as trustworthy and deadly as a pack of scorpions and unwilling to do a thing without knowing what was in it for them. He smiled at the thought. A better bunch of pirates you'd never meet, and like Jack, he owed them all money.

Ms. Swann...Captain Swann's appearance nothing compared to the arrival of the man standing beside her. "Admiral Norrington, is it? Surely you wouldn't be thinking of runnin' away from home and becomin' a pirate!"

Laughter was light as the pirates present put hands to sword hilts. Captain Swann stepped between them and the man at her right. "This man is my First Mate."

"Your mate? I wonder how Will would feel about that," Sparrow muttered, but Barbossa was sure Swann hadn't heard.

"He's a good man and a good pirate," she declared. Norrington did wince at that, and Barbossa wasn't the only one to notice it.

"Is he here by choice or by orders?" Mistress Ching asked. "Is he perhaps meant to infiltrate our Court and report back to the Navy?"

Elizabeth was about to speak, but was cut off when James Norrington, apparently tired of being spoken about or defended, stepped forward, brushed past Elizabeth and spoke to the assembled Pirates. Barbossa noticed, as he no doubt was meant to, that Norrrington's hand rested lightly on the hilt of a sword. It was a good sword if Barbossa was any judge of such matters, and he was.

"The Navy's interests in these parts are represented by Beckett. I have decided he does not represent _me_." He looked at Elizabeth. "He is _not_ a good man, but he is an exceedingly..._effective_...pirate."

There was silence as the pirates decided if they were being insulted, but Jack Sparrow stepped forward before any decision was reached.

"Aye, we all knew he was a bad one, and only a pirate could turn privateerin' into a legitimate business, so we'll move on. We need to rid the seas of the likes of Beckett. We'll ne'er be free to come and go as we please if we don't."

Elizabeth nodded. "We have to fight! Beckett is on his way here now!"

A roar went up from the crowd as pirates debated how that was possible. Some drew swords and stepped menacingly toward Norrington certain he'd brought Beckett with him.

Captain Swann leaned closer to Jack. "Where's Will?"

"Not among us." Jack hastily replied. Barbossa found that interesting as he'd also wondered what had become of the Turner boy.

When he heard a reference to the East India Trading Company, he pounced on it. "And to that end, and by end I mean elimination, we should discuss undoing a great wrong." Now that he had their attention, he began to

speak of the mistakes of the past and the need to undo them.

He saw it then. Jack Sparrow would argue against him. He couldn't have said what triggered the knowledge. Sparrow did not fidget or sway, or wince or narrow his eyes, but as sure as he was standing, Barbossa was certain Sparrow would argue against the release.

Barbossa waved his hands. "We're gettin' away from the main goal of this Court."

"And what goal is that, Barbossa?" Jack asked quietly.

"We're to call on Poseidon…"

"No need to do that," Jack said.

"What do you mean by that?"

Jack shook his head and waved a hand by his ear as though waving away an annoying bug. "I'll get to that. For now, Captain Swann is right. We need to fight Beckett. The _Endeavor_ is coming, and it's bringing the _Flying Dutchman_. We have to make a stand!"

**

Jack Sparrow hadn't expected the Court to turn out with him electing Elizabeth Swann King of the Pirates, but you did what the moment demanded. Accepting Elizabeth and Norrington aboard his ship, Jack looked the new King in the eye. "Well, your majesty, what were ye thinkin' would

be your first order of business."

"We have to fight!"

"So you've said. We need to declare our intentions to Beckett. So..." he turned to Norrington. "This doesn't sit well with me, mate, but I'll need to speak to you and Eliz...er..the Capt...the King in private." He ushered them away from Barbossa's prying eyes.

Once behind closed doors, Jack again asked Elizabeth her intentions. "What is your real first order of business, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth wore a look of momentary confusion, but the silence was enough to allow the new King of the Pirates to hear once more the wishes of her heart. "To find Will."

"Aye, and I know where he is. He's on the _Endeavor_."

"What? Elizabeth and Norrington asked at the same moment.

Jack held up a hand. "It's all right. He went to offer information."

"What are you talking about? Beckett will kill him!"

Jack's heart skipped a beat, but he forced himself not to believe her. "He'll be fine. He had information for sale."

Elizabeth frowned and crossed her arms. "Jack, what are you up to? Does Will know what's going on, or have you left him in the dark again?"

Jack swallowed and swayed to cover any outward sign of distress. He hadn't told Will everything. Well, he hadn't told WIll _much_. All he'd told the boy was to be sure to get Beckett and the _Dutchman_ to the Court. He knew Will could do that much, and he'd been too distracted by strategy to worry about Will's state of affairs as far as Beckett went. He was reminded of the last time he'd seen Beckett. The man had been ruthless then, and he doubted he'd acquired any ruth along the way.

Beckett had been, well, not a good man, but a better man once. He'd gotten greedy and power hungry and his appetite for tales of the macabre had taken him to dark places. He was always looking for the right combination of events that would render him in command of the sea, and by extension, the world.

Jack sat at his desk and told all of this to Elizabeth and Norrington. He was a bit aggravated that he was revealing so much in front of two people who'd tried to kill him, but there was little time before they had to act, and Norrington was his ace in the hole.

"Beckett was once a pirate."

"What? Elizabeth and Norrington asked at the same moment.

Jack smirked. "You've got to stop doing that. He was a mate of mine back in the days before the _Pearl_. He, Bootstrap, and I moved from port to port in this small boat, and I mean boat. Ship was not a word that would fit this beauty, though she was a beauty." He shook himself from his reverie. "I'll tell you all the details one day, but for now, all you need to know is he thinks like a pirate."

"And you sent Will right into his hands?" Elizabeth's incredulity surprised Jack. "Beckett already had a death sentence against the two of us!"

"He'll keep Will alive long enough to get here."

"How can you be so certain?"

Jack smiled. "Because the one thing Will wants it to find you."

"The compass..." Elizabeth whispered just realizing that Jack did not have it.

To Be Continued


	7. Chapter 7

I'm still making no money. This is just for my own personal entertainment.

Reviews welcome and encouraged! Thanks for the last batch. They really got me working on this. Chapter 8 coming soon.

Beyond World's End by Ecri

Chapter 7

The compass spun uncontrollably anytime Beckett touched it. It was infuriating. It used to do the same for Jack Sparrow. He'd assumed it was a trick. Jack, he thought, had rigged it somehow. Angry beyond measure, he sent for Will Turner.

He laughed to see how the boy tried to pretend he wasn't hurting, tried to hide the weakness and fatigue that must plagued him. "We need to check our heading, Turner." He handed the compass to Turner, pleased to see the tremble in his hands that the blacksmith could not hide.

The moment Turner touched it, the arrow pointed steady.

"Why does it work so well for you, I wonder."

"I know what I want."

"Don't be fooled into thinking that I don't."

Will shook his head and breathed deeply of the salt air before replying. "It doesn't matter what I think. The compass knows. It has no call to hide things. If you don't know what you want or if you want too many things equally, it cannot find a direction."

"How do you know this?"

Will shrugged. "Jack told me."

"Do you believe everything he tells you?"

"No."

"Then why this."

"Because I know when he would lie, and I know when he would tell the truth. It renders the lying irrelevant."

Beckett stared at Will in disbelief. How had the boy learned so quickly how to handle Jack Sparrow? "Do you know how many times your father, Jack, and I stood shoulder to shoulder? Now we are all on opposite sides, willing to sell each other out to get what we want! Do you understand loyalty does not exist?"

Will turned from his study of the horizon to face him. "If loyalty did not exist, you would not try so hard to have me abandon mine."

Beckett had had enough of the younger man. Turner had not broken as he had expected, and Beckett preferred his expectations met. He stared out at the horizon, ignoring Turner's existence. There had to be a way to break the man. In that instant, he had it. If he could not break him through physical duress, he would do so by emotional trauma. Beckett called to his signalman to send a message to the _Flying Dutchman_. He would speak to Jones about the other William Turner.

**

Will stood as still as possible to avoid jarring any part of his body that hurt. He thought it possible that his ribs could be bruised, but he didn't think them broken. Most of his injuries were minor—bruising and scrapes—but nothing he could not handle and nothing that would not heal in time, with one exception, but he would not dwell on that. He could not, for aside from the physical pain of it, there were ramifications he would not waste time considering until he knew he would live through this ordeal.

His thoughts were torn between his father and Elizabeth. When he had been lying in the brig, he had dreamed of a place and time where he could be with them both, where his children would meet and know their grandfather, and where he and Elizabeth would not be subjected to the prejudices of a society who saw her as marrying beneath her station.

It had been a pleasant dream, but when he had awoken, his reality had seemed twice as harsh.

Jack had told him precious little of Beckett, except that he knew the man. Will knew there was more to the story, and he doubted he would get anything substantial from Beckett himself. The small pieces of information he had gotten had led him nowhere. There were simply too many secrets in his past. Had his mother known his father was a pirate? Had she kept it from him because she thought he might follow in his footsteps? How could she think so little of him?

His voyage to the Caribbean had put any romantic notions of pirates and treasure—if he had had any—well out of his mind. Pirates were thieves, murderers, and worse.

Yet, Jack was a good man. For the most part…except for his penchant for keeping Will in the dark.

He'd only met his father once, and then briefly, but he had seen a good man. Was it wishful thinking? Had he merely read between the lines and created an image of his father as a good man? He certainly didn't know enough about the man to know one way or the other. The only thing he knew about Bootstrap Bill Turner, aside from his name, was that he had been aboard the _Black Pearl_ and had participated, however reluctantly, in the mutiny against Jack. Granted, this had weighed heavily on his conscience, but he had given in to the temptation and marooned Jack.

He scowled, dropping his gaze to the deck. He wasn't any better himself. He had hit Jack from behind and left him for dead when he had rescued Elizabeth from Barbossa. Granted, he had, at the time, believed that Jack was planning to use him as leverage against Barbossa. Since then, he'd convinced himself that that had not been Jack's plan, but there was doubt.

There would always be doubt.

It was all he knew…the one constant in his life. Doubt that he could survive the emotional turmoil of his mother's death; doubt that he could find his father in the Caribbean; doubt that he would survive a pirate attack; doubt that he would find someone to take him in as an apprentice; doubt that he would make a good blacksmith; doubt that Elizabeth would ever love him as he loved her.

But that had changed. He had not doubted that he would find Elizabeth and return her to Port Royal. It was only after recovering her that he again doubted himself in her presence. He had shaken that as well, and, for a time, they had been happy. Until Beckett had arrested them, he had thought he had left the doubts behind him only to have them trouble him once more he had seen Elizabeth kissing Jack on the deck of the _Pearl._

That kiss still plagued him. He and Elizabeth had not truly cleared the air after it, and now he wondered if they ever would.

"Turner, good of you to join us!" Beckett's voice held a hint of malice, and Will turned to see why he spoke as if he had not been on deck for hours. Instead of Beckett, however, he saw his father.

His mouth open, he found he could not speak. His father ran to his side. "Will? Have you come for me? I knew you would. You said you would."

Will nodded, but his brow furrowed in concern. Something was off. Something was not right. Before he could speak again, Beckett stepped closer to Will. "His mind is gone. That's what you didn't take into account."

"It's not gone!" He looked frantically at his father, but he babbled on and on. Will shook off the fear and sorrow of seeing him like that. "It doesn't matter. When he is released…"

"He will be a simpleton."

"Why do you care?" Will shouted. "What possible difference could it make to you if he is released sane and hale or insane and shattered?

Beckett's smile was ice. "Care? I do not care for anything but vengeance."

"What vengeance could you wish on my father?"

"Perhaps one day, he'll tell you." Beckett's laughter rang across the deck, and Will could not say which was more horrible to listen to; that laughter, or his father's half mumbled assertions that Will would come for him.

**

Elizabeth's insistence, her arms crossed and her eyes blazing, forced a sigh from Jack Sparrow. "If you want the details, I'll give them to you, but only if you do as I ask."

Elizabeth nodded, and Jack wondered momentarily if she were being honest or if she'd become enough of a pirate to believe that a nod was not a binding oath. Regardless, Jack told his tale.

"Beckett, or Beck as we called him back then, was a man to put your money on. Even then, all who knew him knew he was not going to be satisfied with a small piece of the pie. Not Beck. He wanted the entire bakery. Barbossa, me...most pirates, really, we're after money. It's greed that's our undoing." He saw slight surprise register on their faces. "Don't be so shocked. We know the cause of our own downfall." He was lost in thought for a moment, but the silence snapped him out of it. "Yes, it's greed and gold that ruin most of us. Not so with Beck. His lust was for power. He wanted no less than to rule the world, or at least as much of it as he could manage, and die trying for the rest.

"We'd known each other for some years when he decided pirating was all well and good, but being a Captain, or even having a fleet of ships, wasn't getting him enough influence. He didn't want it. He wanted to rub shoulders with Kings...so he could work out how to be one himself.

"This path that led him to issue warrants for Elizabeth, Will, and Norrington was a long time coming. It started years ago aboard the _Evengeline_. She was a fair ship, small, though not so fast as some…

_The sun shown down as it can only in the Caribbean. Captain Jack Sparrow was glad to be back in familiar waters...not that any sea held unfamiliar waters, but the Caribbean was home. His captain had appointed him first mate several months ago, and he found a natural talent to the job. Keeping the crew in good spirits, _

_His thought turned repeatedly to the book he'd taken from Beck. Large portions of it were in a language he couldn't read, some in that odd language he somehow did understand, but some of it was in English. Of that, some told tales of great treasure hidden somewhere in the Devil's Triangle._

_Before long, he'd become obsessed with finding it. _

Sparrow stopped his tale and looked at Elizabeth as though reluctant to continue, but he did. "After a short time we noticed we were being followed. We could make out no colors. We couldn't tell if it be friend or foe, but pirates don't have many friends, so we raised sails and increased our speed.

"We did all he could, but in the end were forced to dump the cargo. When the other ship finally caught the _Evangeline_, we knew it was unfriendly. It flew a Union Jack, and they were already making up boarding parties and firing cannon.

"We fought well, but were outmatched." He looked away, hiding the discomfort he felt discussing that day with anyone. He had lost half his crew that day, and taken on more than a few scars.

"They put the question to me. Were we pirates? I tried to dissuade them from that unfortunate notion, but their Captain turned to a man in the rear of their boarding party.

_"Beckett! You said there'd be loot aboard! What's happened to it! We should at least be able to arrest them for Piracy, or our agreement is worth nothing."_

It took me several moments to understand that Beck had betrayed us. He stepped forward then and glared at me. I saw then contempt as I'd never seen it. He had naught but disdain for us…many of us who'd sailed with him for years."

" 'If you look in the brig, you'll find enough to make any charges stick.' That's what he told them, and that's where they looked. How he remembered that I used to hide a bit down there, I'll never know. I thought only me and Boostrap knew about that. I made a step toward the man, my fury taking hold of me, but Bootstrap stopped me.

"Beck only laughed, and, staring at me, he reached behind the captain for a bucket that held something smoldering. I realized then what he meant to do, but by then, the men of the boarding party had taken hold of me. There was nothing I could do but scream as Beck himself, my good friend, put the iron to my arm."

Jack was silent for some time, watching the ghosts of the past as they played out their familiar dance.

Elizabeth leaned forward and stared into his eyes. "And that is the man you sent Will to see?" Jack flinched, but did not move away. Slowly, he turned to face her. "Beck will not harm Will."

"How can you know that?"

"I will protect your Will. Just be sure when I have that you don't hurt him, either."

"What?"

Jack smiled the same smile he'd worn when he'd called Elizabeth a pirate on the deck of the _Pearl_ as she chained him to it to ensure her own escape. "Don't pretend you're all treacle and flowers, love. Will never knew you'd killed me until he put it all together in the locker, and for a man like him, betrayal and dishonesty cut deep."

Flustered, Elizabeth looked away. It was true. "You let me worry about that! You just be sure we get him back!"

"Aye, lass, we'll get your laddie back, but to do it, you have to do as I ask."

He saw her reluctance, but she agreed to his terms.

**

Elizabeth listened in rapt attention to Sparrow's tale, horrified for the first time of a true pirate adventure. She sensed no hyperbole. Jack was being honest. Her fear for Will tripled by the end of the story. She wanted to take Jack Sparrow to task for what he had done. Leaving Will to that evil man's mercy was unforgivable. Of course, so was leaving Jack to the mercy of the Kraken.

She was startled by the realization. She was indeed, as he had often said, a Pirate.

Will was her priority, however. She would see him safe, and then she would deal with the consequences of both her actions and her nature.

She glanced at Norrington and saw him nod slightly. He would support her. He would help her get Will back, just as he'd promised. She turned to exact the same promise from Jack, but she saw something in his eyes as they prepared to meet Beckett; she could not place it until much later. It hit her just as she went ashore to meet with Beckett and Jones. It was fear.

**

Will had taken the beatings well enough as any man could, but his father's state was his undoing. Fever assailed him and it was all he could do to keep his feet, but his every thought was of his father. Would destroying Jones return Bootstrap Bill to himself or would he be feeble-minded all the rest of his days, asking for his son and not knowing he was there?

Beckett's decision to bring him to meet with the Pirates was disturbing and Will fought against it. He did not wish to leave his father once more. Who knew what he would find when—if—he returned. He had no choice. Cutler Beckett did not give him one. Once again, Will Turner was leverage.

He could only hope that Jack had saved Elizabeth from Sao Feng's crew. His hands were tied none too gently. Jones was taking delight as great as Beckett's in Will's discomfort.

Jones handed him off to several of the Dutchman's crew members to be loaded into a dinghy as so much cargo. To Will's surprise, his father was permitted to assist in the task. Bootstrap tried to be gentle, but it was an impossible task. Too many sea oddities had found themselves attached to William Turner, Senior to allow his touch to be gentle. Starfish, spiny shells Will could not identify...creatures of every kind oozed around his father, part of him yet not.

"Will, my boy, are ye well?"

Will sighed. It was the moments of clarity that made the obvious insanity so hard to bear. He could almost convince himself that Bootstrap Bill had returned to him, but then, he would slip back and ask if Will were here to save him. How he might be considered a hero was beyond consideration. He was trussed, wounded, and beaten, Will Turner thought only of breaking these bonds rescuing his father and his Love—if she were still his—and returning to Port Royal. It all seemed impossibly out of reach, and he was counting on the sight of Jack Sparrow to inspire him to...something.

Once they'd reached the strip of beach, Will stood swaying to Beckett's right. Bootstrap stood behind him our of Will's sight. Will could see the approaching Pirate Lords. He recognized Jack and Barbossa immediately, but the other two he could not place. the one to Jack's right was slighter, smaller, yet certainly imposing in stride and demeanor. It wasn't until she'd stopped that recognition smacked him in the face.

"Elizabeth?" He spoke without thought, and received a slap from Beckett that, with his arms still bound, made it impossible to keep his balance. The slap sent him to the sand unable to break his fall.

He shook his head hoping to stop its ringing, and realizing he was missing something.

"...no cause." Jack's voice. Will was unable to get up with his hands bound. He glanced to the Pirate Lords as Jack continued. "We're here to offer you a choice: Peace or War. Your call, mate."

Beckett laughed. "I am here to offer you death or...death. No pirate will live out this day."

Jack swayed a bit and leaned forward, his smile vicious and knowing. "That include you, Beck?"

Beckett did not respond to Jack but turned instead to the man next to Barbossa. "You've fallen hard."

"I've...chosen sides." The voice was Norrington's and WIll squinted at the man to find the familiar features. It was the Commodore...or Admiral...and he was standing with the Pirates.

Elizabeth crossed her arms across her chest. "We're here to tell you that we'll fight. You won't take us down so easily."

Will's thoughts swam. She spoke as though she were in command, and Jack and more shockingly, Barbossa, seemed to allow it. Will felt as though he'd been reading a novel only to find that he'd somehow missed several chapters. All the people who should be here were, yet they did not act themselves or at the least they did not act as he had expected.

Beckett nodded. "Then you chose a hard death, but no matter. You will not last the night."

"Nor will you." Elizabeth nearly spat at him, and Will saw ferocity and determination in equal parts. She was at once familiar and strange. "Now, we discuss terms."

"Terms?" Beckett asked, a ghost of a smile crossing his face. "This is no parlay. What do you think you have that we want?"

"We give you Jack. You give us Will."

"Elizabeth?" Will was surprised by the words, but even more surprised when Davy Jones and Beckett both accepted the terms.

Jack turned on Elizabeth, calling her a pirate.

Barbossa turned on her. "You can't do that."

She stared at him through angry eyes. "_King_."

Will's confusion was growing by leaps and bounds, but he would not allow Jack's freedom to be the price of his own. "I will not agree to this."

Jack smiled at him even as he helped the whelp up. "You've no choice in the matter. That which is being traded has no right to question the trade, even if the traders are traitors."

"Jack…"

"Let it go, Lad." Jack whispered in his ear. Then Jack was tied and led away as Will's bonds were cut.

As he walked away with Barbossa, Norrington, and Elizabeth, he asked her, "King?"

"Courtesy of Jack Sparrow."

"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow," Will made the correction automatically. As they walked, he saw a tear standing in Elizabeth's eye. He wanted to speak to her, to ask about how she'd become King of the Pirates when last he'd seen her, she'd been the been the new Captain of a crew unlikely to follow her orders. He wanted to ask what had passed between her and Jack, but he knew now was not the time for such things. Wait for the opportune moment was what Jack would tell him. He could not help but wonder if he would live long enough to reach it, and if he would recognize it when he did. He never had yet.

He stopped suddenly realization standing like a brick wall in front of him. Barbossa, Norrington, and Elizabeth stopped as well, turning to look at him.

"The opportune moment is always now." He whispered the words, and the intensity of the moment shone in his eyes, causing Elizabeth to take a tentative step back.

"Will? Are you all right?"

He almost laughed. He knew what a sight he was, beaten, bruised, his wrists chafed and bleeding from the ropes so recently removed. He stood on a strip of sand that would disappear in high tide having just born witness to the declaration of war between the Pirates and Beckett—whomever Beckett represented. He should be on Port Royal, returning from his honeymoon, taking over the business Brown had left him, planning a future…

"Elizabeth," he said crossing the short space that separated them. "I love you. I don't know what's going on, but I need you to know that I have not wavered." He stopped, his eyes searching hers, which stared back at him in puzzlement.

Will watched as Elizabeth tore her attention from the impending battle, from Jack, and from whatever else troubled her. Her eyes softened and he saw once more his Elizabeth somewhere inside this Pirate King.

"Will, I love you, too. I have always loved you. I should have told you that the moment we met." Will smiled, tentatively, still somehow uncertain that all he'd ever wanted might have wanted him just as long. "But…what about Jack?"

"Jack?" She shook her head. "He is a friend and no more. I find his lifestyle attractive."

"You want to be a pirate."

She shook her head. "No, Will. I want to be a blacksmith's wife."

He blinked, and then a smile spread across his face. He swept her into his arms and kissed her as he would have had they married. It was a long, deep kiss and he put his love, his passion, and his desire into it. When they finally pulled apart for breath, he knew.

She loved him.

"I hate to break up the reunion," Barbossa's voice intruded. "But it seems to me we've a war to wage." He walked past the two toward the _Black Pearl_.

Norrington came behind them, and opened his mouth to speak, but could only swallow. After another moment, he clapped a hand on a shoulder of each. "Congratulations," he whispered and walked away.

They followed, racing toward the _Pearl _hand in hand.

**

The _Flying Dutchman_ had always been an imposing ship even before it had become the ghostly specter of the sea. Sitting alongside the _Endeavor_ it did seem the more formidable of the two ships, though that was likely because of the otherworldliness. Jack wasn't impressed by otherworldliness. He'd been threatened by the undead before. He'd even briefly been undead himself. Come to think of it, he'd briefly been dead as well. Nothing would keep Captain Jack Sparrow down. Not now. Not after all he'd been through. It was only a matter of time. Things were going according to plan.

Elizabeth had played her part well. Aboard the _Dutchman_, he would find what he needed and he would use it. He was locked away in the brig, watching the transformed crew members walk away. When he realized he was well and truly alone, fear slipped once more into place behind his eyes as he called out to the ceiling.

"Hello?" There was no answer. A confident smile once more came over him as he walked to the hull. "Hello?" Consternation brought the frown, but when he looked to deck. Encrusted with living creatures, bits of shell, and the detritus of sailors who were more sea creature than human, it seemed to writhe and undulate beneath his feet. He squatted down, cupping a hand around his mouth and shouting down to the deck, "Helllllooo!"

Annoyance drove the mad sparkle from his eyes. "Well, that's a fine how do you do. I've done my part!" He yelled, looking up, then around at the air. "I've gotten myself thrown into the brig! Aren't you meant to be helping me out?" He waited expectantly, but there was no reply from wherever he expected one. Anger crept into his tone. "Oi!" He called out loudly.

No help. He was well and truly alone. He looked up again, a sound drawing his attention to the stairs. There he saw Bootstrap. "Bootstrap!" Come along and help!"

Bootstrap made his way to Jack's cell. "Did you come with Will?"

"What? No!"

"My boy said he'd come for me!"

"He will, but I've got better help." He looked down as the smallest trickle of seawater seeped through the deck.

Jack laughed triumphantly. "There it is now!"

Bootstrap stared at the water. "And ye called me mad."

**

He should have felt anticipation, but all he felt was calm. An odd peace the likes he'd never known kissed the air with the promise of achievement, of glory, of power. Cutler Beckett stood on deck of the _Endeavor _awaiting the opportune moment to strike. This day, he knew, would see the end of Jack Sparrow, Hector Barbossa, indeed of every pirate in the Caribbean. They would all perish today. Swann, Norrington, Will Turner, even the _Dutchman_…all gone by this time tomorrow.

Beckett inhaled the scent of the sea aware that this calm he felt would soon evaporate into a battle the likes of which none had seen since the dawn of time. Jack had thought keeping the book would stop this day from coming, but the truth was, Cutler Beckett had committed that book to memory. He'd followed its instructions to the letter, even if the book itself collected dust aboard the Pearl. Nothing now stood in his way. Tia Dalma would remember the debt she owed him, and even if she did not, he knew something of her that would bind her to him.

He knew her name. According to the book Sparrow had stolen, that was powerful magic.

Her name was not Tia Dalma. She used that as well as Calypso and many others, though she'd long preferred Calypso to her given name. The one constant in the occult, in all magic, was naming magic. He knew what no other—not Jack Sparrow, not Boostrap Bill or his whelp of a son or even Elizabeth Swann—knew.

He was not afraid to use it. Tia Dalma, and many others over the years had tried to ensure he would be afraid of just that, but his thirst for the power that should be his was not assuaged by promises of treasure or of domination of some corner of the world. No. He knew what he wanted.

"I want it all." He looked across at Shipwreck Cove, noticed the ships moving slowly away from it toward him. "And I want it now."

**

The ships moved slowly, drifting almost lazily toward each other in direct contrast to the frantic movements of their crews who dashed about the decks, climbed the rigging, and prepared the cannon for battle. Will Turner did what he could, calling out orders without realizing that was what he was doing, and offering his own strong back in the labors of war, adrenaline and love helped him ignore his own pains.

His focus was on these activities, on saving the ship, saving Elizabeth, and, with luck, his father. He still longed for more than a stolen moment alone with Elizabeth, to discuss what had happened, to ask for explanations and to offer apologies for his own readiness to believe the worst. He longed to hold her, but knew there was little time, and truthfully, their preoccupation with their work saved him from the worry he knew his condition would cause. He knew he was on his feet by the force of adrenaline alone, and he would not cause her worry. She was, after all, and inexplicably, the Pirate King. She had a fleet of Pirate ships to lead.

He was convinced all he needed was rest. He ached from the beatings, and his head was still spinning with thoughts of his father and how Will might be able to free him. Once this was all well and truly behind them, assuming they survived it, he would have a chance to recover.

For now, there was too much to do.

He watched Norrington as he discussed with Elizabeth and Barbossa the likely tactics the _Endeavor _would employ. The men aboard were Royal Navy trained. Regardless that their leader was little more than a privateer at best or a pirate at worst, the men would conduct themselves as Navy men would.

Will moved closer to hear the discussion. He felt still somewhat of an outsider, still uncertain how Elizabeth was suddenly able to order these men around, still curious where he fit into her new world.

He watched her discussing tactics and firepower with men much older than she was, watched her in her element. She gave commands as though born to do so, and, some would argue that she was. Of course, the orders women of her status were expected to give had little to do with war or sailing. Her confidence, her aura of control, gave her authority that none could deny.

He approached the trio and stood waiting to be acknowledged. It took a moment, but Elizabeth finally sought his face, his eyes. "The cannon are ready." He gave the report as though that were all he'd intended to do while he'd waited for her to speak to him, but watching her had always been one of his favorite pastimes.

Elizabeth nodded and moved to his side. "The battle will begin soon."

He nodded, unsure if he was meant to be comforted or to comfort her. "The men are ready. All of them." He inclined his head toward the other ships, all moving in formation and flanking the _Pearl_ as though she were head of an armada, and, except for it being a rather small armada, he supposed that's what they were.

"Elizabeth," he whispered, and when she looked up at him, he felt his breath catch in his throat as it had in Port Royal before either of them had ever set foot on a pirate ship or had ever heard of Cursed Gold, the _Flying Dutchman_, or World's End.

He opened his mouth to say more, but a sharp pain stabbed through his chest. His hand flew to rest above his heart and he made a soft sound like a cross between a moan and a gasp.

"Will?" She placed a hand on his back. He could feel the warmth of it, her touch almost electrifying so that he had to arch his back to break the contact. Losing his balance, he fell to the deck, Elizabeth immediately at his side, Norrington on hers.

"Will? What is it?"

Will shook his head. "I'll be fine." He whispered the words, and his eyes searched the deck for Tia Dalma. He caught site of her. She walked to his side.

"I vowed only to wait until de Brethren Court was over to delay my claim on you, Will Turner." She smiled slowly and moved to put her hand over his heart, but Elizabeth stepped between them.

"Whatever it is you want will have to wait until the battle is won." Elizabeth stood straight and proud, one hand resting on the hilt of her sword, and the other holding the knife Tia Dalma had passed to Will before he'd tried to take Sao Feng's charts.

Tia Dalma screamed, her hands reaching out for the blade. "Where…'ow did you…"

Elizabeth smiled, but said nothing. Tia Dalma scowled and almost hissed at her, but she broke away and moved below deck.

Will turned to face Elizabeth. "How did you get that? I thought I lost it to Sao Feng."

"You did. He made me Captain of his ship just before he died. This was in his cabin."

Will shook his head. "I will never catch up. I've missed too much."

"I've missed _you_." She said the words in the softest of whispers and leaned up to kiss him.

As she did, his hand rubbed once more at the spot on his chest above his heart. He wished Jack had explained himself better. Somehow, Jack always managed to divert attention away from important matters long enough for Will and Elizabeth to end up doing his bidding once more.

"Elizabeth, why did Jack want you to trade him for me?"

She pulled away, eyes wide with shock. "How did you know?"

"It wasn't hard to figure out. Jack wants something aboard the _Endeavor _or the _Dutchman_. Which is it?"

"The _Dutchman_. He's going after Davy Jones. He wants the chest."

"But if he kills the heart…"

"He knows that." She shrugged unhappily and he knew that she, too, did not know everything. Jack was keeping secrets. "He said it wouldn't have the same effect on him."

"What wouldn't? Stabbing the heart?"

Again Elizabeth shrugged.

Will would have pursued the conversation, but a call went out from Cotton's Parrot. The battle was about to begin.

**

Jack Sparrow stared down at the water seeping through the decking. It moved sluggishly at first, but soon bubbled up with greater speed and purpose. It did not behave like water. It did not fill the room by degrees, its form determined by the shape of what might contain it. Instead it moved oddly, ethereally. It climbed up in twin columns from the floor then the columns joined and it continued to grow forming legs, a torso, arms. In moments, a duplicate of Captain Jack Sparrow, constructed entirely of seawater, stood before him, turning its transparent face toward the door and stepping through the bars. It disregarded the fact that it had to separate from parts of itself and rejoin once through the bars. Instead, it turned to face Jack from the opposite side.

Jack seemed a little concerned, not that a replica of himself made of water stood before him, but rather that it had managed to escape where he had not. "Come on, mate, you need to get me out of here. I can't find it from here."

The Water Sparrow appeared to think it over, as much as its vague features could appear to do anything, and then a hand was placed over the lock. Water flowed inside it and it began to rattle against the bars filling past its capacity before bursting. Jack stepped through the now opened door and gestured for the Water Sparrow to take the lead. Water Sparrow doffed its hat and moved toward the stairs.

Creeping along the deck of the _Dutchman _was easier than Jack would have guessed. He assumed his companion somehow heard other members of the crew and was able to pick a route free of potential hazards.

Reaching Mullroy and Murtogg did not put Jack's mind at rest. Lacking the energy of a confrontation, and unwilling to dive into the sea to rescue anyone at this juncture just to escape their company, Jack played upon the insanity everyone believed he possessed, and turned to the Water Sparrow.

"There it is."

The Water Sparrow considered the chest before turning to face Jack.

"There it is." Jack insisted. "The thump-thump is in there."

Mullroy and Murtogg stared at him, and, when the Water Sparrow stepped closer, they dropped their weapons and stepped back their hands held high.

Once Sparrow and his water shadow had left with the chest, Mullroy turned to Murtogg. "First the sea creatures are the crew, then the sea itself…I can't take much more."

For once, Murtogg kept his silence.

To Be Continued


	8. Chapter 8

I beg forgiveness for the long delay. I'm back on track and my plan is to finish this before the end of the year.

Please review…

Beyond World's End

By Ecri

CHAPTER 8

The battle would soon be under way. Captain Barbossa longed for the moment when he could lose himself in the chaos of it all. The smell of gunpowder mixed with the coppery tinge of blood filled the salt sea air while the cacophony of cannon fire blended with the sound of splintering wood, of splashing water, of the screams of men either dying or shouting out orders…or calling for help.

It would be a relief to be dealing with things of a purely piratical nature once more rather than of curses and councils and otherworldly phenomena. This was real. This was why he'd become a pirate. He'd known pirates in his life who'd avoided outright confrontation. Jack Sparrow hadn't gone so far as that, but if he were able to take a port town with minimum bloodshed, he would. It had always struck Barbossa as odd. Then again, Sparrow himself had always struck him as odd. He'd thought so from the moment they'd me and the more he'd dealt with the eccentric pirate, the more firmly he'd believed it.

He could recall a time when he'd considered the possibility that he and Jack might be friends, but Pirates didn't have real friends. That's where Jack had gone wrong. He'd thought William Turner the Senior had been his friend. He'd thought Barbossa had been his friend, but all he'd gotten for his trouble was a mutiny.

Jack's eccentricities had seemed to worsen the older the man got, though he never really seemed to age. Barbossa had wondered at that once upon a time, but then had considered it a trick of make up. A man who'd taken to wearing kohl on his eyes would surely not be above using other types of cosmetic secrets. He'd considered it a vanity, thinking Jack must be a bit of a fop, but kohl was the least of his bizarre habits.

He'd once come across Jack sitting on deck peering between the rails and talking to the sea. Sure, pirates often spoke of the sea as a woman, but how many actually had conversations with the water? And conversations they were, for Jack always reacted as though he were getting replies. It sent a shiver down Barbossa's spine even now.

The enigma that was Captain Jack Sparrow had always plagued Barbossa, and he was certain that was the reason he felt such animosity toward the younger man. He could never fathom an honest man, but he could fathom a pirate. What did that say about Sparrow? The man was anything but honest, yet he had a strange unpredictability about him. This had not diminished in all the time he'd known Jack.

Even now, Barbossa knew, Jack was trying to keep Will Turner safe, and Barbossa could not understand that. The protective streak Jack seemed to have for the whelp…even back when they'd been trying to remove the curse of the Aztec gold, had surprised him. Was he protective of the Young Mr. Turner because of the older Mr. Turner? That didn't seem enough somehow. There had to be more to it. He didn't know as much about Tia Dalma as Beckett and Jack did. Perhaps there was something in their previous meetings. Perhaps there was a debt owed from Jack to Tia Dalma…like the one Jack owed to Davy Jones…and Jack was using Turner to pay it.

Barbossa liked that explanation. It was acceptable pirate behavior, but it didn't explain why Jack hadn't allowed Tia Dalma to take the whelp yet. No, there was something he still couldn't quite grasp, and until he did, he would do nothing. He would hate to learn of the boy's value later after he'd managed to bring about his death.

Now, scanning the deck of the Dutchman, he wondered what the other Captain had up his voluminous sleeve.

**

Jack made his way across the deck of the _Dutchman_ shadowed by the Water Sparrow as he picked his way carefully through the battle dodging swords and stepping around those locked in fighting. His watery companion was helpful on occasion extracting him from difficult moments and keeping him balanced when he was about to fall overboard.

"Where's Jones?" He asked the question aloud, but he didn't expect an answer. He was surprised, therefore, when a wet but oddly firm grip on his shoulder halted his progress and an equally wet arm pointed toward the _Pearl._ There, fighting Will Turner, was the _Dutchman_'s captain.

Jack offered a smile to his salty duplicate. "Thanks, mate." He reached for the rigging, his eyes upon a loose rope he could use to swing to the deck of the other ship. He reached the rope and looked down in time to see Water Sparrow as he soared through the air to land with a splash by Jones's side.

The Water Sparrow was momentarily absent, disappearing in a splash, but managed to coalesce into shape once more almost immediately.

Jack, nonplussed at the odd form of transportation and more than a little miffed that he hadn't been offered a ride, mumbled to himself as he gripped the chest in one hand and the rope in the other. He pushed off and landed next to the now fully re-formed Water Sparrow.

Jack held the chest aloft, waving it until he caught Jones's attention. When he finally did, the Captain let out a roar, enraged to see it in Sparrow's possession. "Release it!"

"Oh, I don't think so, mate."

Jones stopped fighting, his sword hanging limply at his side. Will also stepped back, though he held his sword at the ready. Elizabeth stood nearby, her attention on the man/beast she was fighting, though she was obviously positioning herself so she would be aware of whatever happened between Jack and the Cursed Captain.

A slow smile spread across Jack's face as he opened the chest and grasped the beating heart.

Jones's eyes narrowed, and in a move so swift it had to be enhanced by some magic or sorcery, he brought up his sword, disarmed Will Turner and grabbed hold of the young man, holding his own sword to the young man's throat.

Jones smiled at the wide-eyed look on Jack's face. "Stalemate," he cackled.

Elizabeth, finally dispatching her opponent, turned to see the shocking tableau. "Will!" She cried, and Will chanced the slightest of movements in an attempt to bring her into his sight.

Jones cackled again. "I will kill him, Jack, if you don't return what's mine!"

A howl of unearthly rage stopped them all. Jack turned, his eyes scanning the area to see what had made the sound, but he knew. He hadn't expected her to wait so patiently, but wait she had, and now she made her way to the small group that held the outcome of the entire day in its collective grasp.

Tia Dalma's eyes were wide and seemed to spark in her outrage. "Dat heart is mine! You gave it to me!" She moved closer to Will, who dared not move so firmly was he held by Jones, and so close to his unprotected heart was the Pirate's sword.

"As is dis one…" she pointed a finger at Will who grimaced as though he once more felt pain flare in his heart, and Jack thought, for a moment, that Jones had run him through. It was obvious that only Jones's firm grip kept him on his feet.

The fighting around them was a distant cacophony, and Jack barely heard the cannon or the kiss of steel on steel. Things had taken on an odd slowness as though time for them had stood still while the battle raged on around them at its own, more hurried, pace.

Tia Dalma took a step closer to Will and Jones, and both seemed powerless to stop her.

"One more step, darlin', and I'll end him now." Jack spoke softly, but with a savage ferocity that surprised even him.

Tia Dalma turned to face him.

"That's it, love! Come and get it!" Sparrow urged.

"What is it you want, Jack Sparrow?" Tia Dalma's voice was cold but demanding.

"_Captain_…_Captain_ Jack Sparrow, and what I want should be obvious, or haven't you seen my mate?" He gestured beside him, but, when everyone stared back at him blankly, he turned to look. His duplicate, the Water Sparrow, was gone. His smile faltered, but he cleared his throat. "Well, he's…stepped away for a moment. Not to worry. I'm sure he'll be back."

Tia Dalma scowled at him. "You are a man forever tryin' ta escape yer destiny, Jack Sparrow, but ye cannot run any longer!"

"We had this out a long time ago. I'm not payment for whatever Beck promised you." He tightened his grip on the heart and brought his sword up to within inches of the hideous thing. Tia Dalmas stopped in her tracks. "Give it 'ere, Jack." She whispered.

Tia Dalma turned again this time to face Jones. "Ye know it's mine!"

"You spurned it! I'll kill the whelp!" He brought his sword closer to Will, releasing his crushing grip on Will's throat, forsaking the awkwardness of piercing his heart for the ease of cutting his throat. Jones's sword left a thin trail of blood on Turner's throat as he moved swiftly to show how serious he was.

Will raised his head, struggling to keep the blade at a distance, but Tia Dalma had not given up her hold on him. In anger, she clenched her hand into a fist high above her head. Will's breath came in strangled gasps. His arms immobile by the grip Jones had on him, he moved his legs, feebly trying to force Jones to release him.

Jack saw time was short. The two were playing a game and Will was stuck in the middle. He glanced to Elizabeth who looked at him pleadingly, and then to Bootstrap who seemed at least momentarily himself and struggled through several others to reach his son.

Things seemed to slow down…to take on a plodding slowness that helped Jack see more clearly than he had before. That was the only reason he saw Bootstrap Bill make his move. Unsure of his friend's sanity, he could only stand in mute horror as Bootstrap rushed him running Jones' heart through with his own sword.

The first effect this had was to speed time back up to its proper pace. Tia Dalma's scream shattered the still silence. "'e was mine! It was my right to take 'im life!"

Jack smiled as the watery duplicate removed his seawater hand from the hilt of the sword letting it clatter to the deck. Jack shook his head. "He wasn't yours. He gave you his heart, but you rejected it. You never loved him. You _needed_ him!"

"What do you know of it?" She spat the words, but her eyes drifted to the watery figure beside him.

Jack smiled, his gold teeth glittering in the light not as obvious as the glint of anger in his eyes. "Oh, I know more than you think, Tia Dalma."

Tia Dalma's eyes momentarily showed a fear unfamiliar to any who knew her well. She turned her back on both Sparrow and stared instead at the prone form of Will Turner. She placed a hand tenderly on Will's cheek. He looked up at her trying to scramble out of her way.

Jack turned his attention to her as she continued to caress Will's cheek. Elizabeth ran toward the pair, fire in her eyes. Jack caught her around the waist and swung in a circle with her until she pummeled him.

"Let me go!"

"No…Elizabeth…" His serious tone caught her attention. "I am more equipped to handle this than you. Grant me that, and step aside." She nodded, however reluctantly.

Jack faced Tia Dalma who still stood over Will, though Will was somehow, to Jack's amazement, struggling to stand. "Will…don't do anything stupid," he called to the young man having recognized the look in his eyes and the set to his jaw.

Will, finding he lacked the strength to stand, backed away from Tia Dalma scrambling awkwardly half on his side. He caught Jack's eye and nodded, acquiescing for the moment at least to remain silent and permit Jack to handle what he so little understood.

Jack breathed a sigh of relief and turned to his water companion. "You've not been much help so far, mate. You can step in anytime, you know."

The watery figure shimmered and took on a more opaque appearance, but in doing so, it lost its likeness to Jack. Instead, the image of a man, not young and not old, whose edges seemed to waver like he might once again become water at any moment, stared back them all.

"I regret not getting involved sooner. I should not have permitted the Brethren Court to muddle things."

"That's one way of putting it," Jack mumbled.

Barbossa stepped forward. "What is this? Who are you? What do you mean you shouldn't have permitted the Brethren Court…? We do as we please! We take what we can…"

"And give nothing back. Yes, I've heard." The man faced Barbossa. "I should have held more firmly to you once you died, Hector."

Jack smiled at Barbossa's discomfiture. "Maybe I should make introductions." He gestured to the man beside him. "This is Poseidon. He's here to set a few things right."

Barbossa was visibly shaken and took a tentative half-step away.

Jack only smirked and continued. "I met him in the Locker. He explained a few things."

Tia Dalma scoffed. "Like what, Jack Sparrow?" She was visibly shaken by Poseidon's appearance, but struggling to maintain her control.

In reply, Jack cupped his hands around his mouth and screamed at the top of his lungs.

"AMPHITRITE!"

Tia Dalma turned to face him. The expression on her face was an odd mixture of fury, disbelief, and fear. "No!" She cried, finally releasing Will Turner.

She took several steps toward Jack before seeing his double. "NO!" She cried again. "I have been denied too long!"

She spoke to Jack, though her eyes never left Poseidon's. "He come to claim 'im book and blade? Let 'im 'ave dem!" She gestured around her, the movement encompassing Will Turner, the _Pearl_, the other ships still engaged in battle, even the sea they sailed upon. "I will not be denied!"

Jack laughed, a hard edge to the sound none present had heard before. "Oh, you'll be denied. Did you never think it odd that I wasn't who you thought I was? Did you never wonder why you'd been so sure I was the one you now believe Will to be?" He took a step toward her, his hand shooting out from his side to clutch hers in an iron grip.

"I'm not the prophecy. I'm the prophet."

Tia Dalma's eyes widened in surprise. "Dat ye cannot be! De prophet be Immortal and 'ave no desire for treasure."

"My desire is none of your concern, Tia Dalma. You need to know only that I've never been what I seem. Shouldn't be too hard a lesson for a woman who's never been what she seems." His grip on her wrist tightened until she yelped in pain and glanced down at his hand.

"Release me, Jack Sparrow!"

"Release the whelp first. Completely and irrevocably. You've no claim on him. He's mine." Jack's eyes never wavered from Tia Dalma's and the woman's eyes widened in shock. She stared deeply into his bright, mad eyes, and then dropped her gaze to the deck. Dropping her own arm, she seemed nothing if not utterly defeated.

Will lurched forward as though suddenly released from some invisible hold.

Jack smiled at Poseidon. "Take her with you, mate. I've got plenty to sort out down here."

"Jack, you're not meant to stay…"

Jack's eyes narrowed and he turned to face the Water God. "I'll stay where I please. Like I said, I've got plenty to sort out down here."

Poseidon smiled. "Go on, then. Get to it. I'll take her off your hands."

"I cannot until the other Gods agree and the Brethren release me, and well you know it!"

He turned to Jack. "You will release her."

Jack looked to Barbossa, who fingered a bag that held the pieces of eight. Jack removed his own from where it hung upon his head and waited. Barbossa's eyes narrowed. "What are ye playin' at, Jack?"

"Poseidon has come to claim his wife."

"Poseidon?" Barbossa looked as if he would like to dismiss the notion, but seemed to think better of it. He tossed the bag to Jack a bit harder than was strictly necessary. "I'll expect the story from ye soon, Jack."

Jack smiled. "You'll have it."

The ritual was a simple one, and Jack let Barbossa have the honors. When nothing happened, Tia Dalma let out a roar that deafened all present for a moment. Jack stepped in and did it once more, speaking in softer, pleasant tones, and Tia Dalma was immediately transformed. She shimmered and lost shape, she wavered and coalesced, and, in mere moments, Poseidon and Amphitrite clasped watery hands and disappeared beneath the sea. Jack followed them, running toward the rail, calling out to them. "Hang on a minute! What about me? We had a deal, Poseidon! You can't leave me here on my onesies!"

The pair was gone, and as they disappeared, absorbed by the ocean itself, the water began to swirl and the sky to darken. Buffeted by wind and rain, the Pearl began to list a bit until Barbossa again began giving orders to right the ship. Jack spun away from the rail and saw Elizabeth kneeling by Will Turner. He was beside them in a moment. "Will, are you all right?" The Captain asked, holding his breath for the answer.

Will was blinking slightly and rubbing a hand across his chest. "I'm well enough." His eyes scanned the area, but, though his free hand clutched Elizabeth's like a lifeline, he seemed lost. "Where is my father?"

Jack looked around noticing for the first time that the _Flying Dutchman_ was gone. Had it gone down? Had it disappeared? Had Beck recalled it? "We'll find him."

Will looked away, his eyes betraying his doubt in Jack's word. Jack gripped Will's shoulders and shook slightly forcing him to look back at the pirate. "I promise, Will. We'll find him."

Will nodded, and Elizabeth and Jack helped him stand. Finding him steady enough on his feet, the trio joined the fight. _Endeavor_ was still engaged in battle with several other ships, and the Pearl rejoined the fray, sailing easily to _Endeavor's_ side.

As Jack reached for a bit of rope and prepared to swing over to the _Endeavor_, he called out to Barbossa. "Keep my _Pearl _safe!"

Norrington, Elizabeth, and Will followed Sparrow, and Barbossa nodded, though he muttered to himself. "_My Pearl_."

To be continued


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Not for money…just for fun!

Beyond World's End

By Ecri

Chapter 9

The _Endeavor_'s crew adjusted the rigging as the battle began, trying to keep the ship close enough to the Pirate, though the sudden storm seemed determined to force a temporary cessation of hostilities. The crew shouted to each other above the din of waves and wind, crawling along the decks when the ship was tossed too fiercely, securing all that could be secured while still trying to fight the pirates that were Cutler Beckett's obsession.

Pirates had boarded _Endeavor_, and many of the crew not tending to the ship herself, were engaged in the fighting.

The sounds of swords clashing couldn't be heard above the sounds of the storm, and speaking was almost impossible. Rain flew at them almost horizontally across the deck as Will held fast to Elizabeth, unwilling, now that they had found each other, to risk losing her before they had a chance to speak.

He wasn't sure why Jack had come here, but he knew from his time aboard that Beckett held a grudge against Jack, Barbossa, and Bootstrap. He carried the proof of it in the beatings he'd taken at Beckett's orders. He would not have chosen to return, not out of fear of Beckett, but out of a desire to face the Privateer when he himself was healthy and strong. He would not let on to his friends, but he was feeling decidedly…not himself. He had followed Elizabeth and Jack only because he believed the only way they might all find a way out of this was together.

A flash of lightning showed the fast-moving form of Cutler Beckett scurrying below decks. Jack was on his tail and Will, Elizabeth, and Norrington followed.

They followed Beckett to his private quarters rifling through his desk. A stack of papers in his hand, he turned triumphantly to Jack. "It will all be mine."

"Too late." Jack whispered.

Beckett scoffed. "What would you know of my plans?"

"Enough."

Will watched Jack move closer to the other man, but he could not fathom what Jack might be planning. Unable to hold back, he moved with Jack, keeping pace with the pirate, eyes searching for some means of defeating Beckett once and for all. Norrington, he saw, seemed to be doing the same, though he was much more familiar with the ship and Beckett's potential means of escape.

Beckett stared across the room at Jack, his hands still clutching his papers. He stopped, freezing in place for a moment before tossing them to the floor as if they no longer mattered. "I have all I need to gain all I wish."

Jack smirked, a knowing look in his eyes as his hand slipped into his pocket and he drew out a book, one that looked too large to have been in a pocket and made Will wonder how Jack managed to conceal so much upon his person. It was then that Will realized Jack was rubbing a hand over a symbol on the spine of the book; the symbol of immortality that had been on that knife, he turned questioning eyes to Elizabeth, who shrugged, her own hand reaching for the knife she'd taken from Sao Feng's ship.

Jack seemed to be waiting for something, and, unconsciously, the others in the room all held their breath

Beckett's eyes blazed at this sight of it. "Hand that over to me, Sparrow. It's no use to you. With it, I will seize control of the seas, of the very lifeblood of this earth!" Beckett's eyes blazed and it seemed he saw some future they could not.

Will opened his mouth to speak, but Norrington beat him to it.

"You're mad." The clipped, reserved voice spoke calmly as though informing Beckett there was tea available if he desired it.

Will was surprised when Beckett merely laughed. The man cast his gaze with an imperious sneer at Norrington. "Genius is often mistaken for madness, and, you, _Admiral_, are hardly fit to judge _me_." Beckett moved toward Norrington.

Jack, Will, and Elizabeth all readied their own weapons as they moved closer to Norrington.

"Ah, Beck," Jack said softly. "Leave the Admiral alone. This is between you and me. It always has been."

Will wondered how much more he didn't know about the history between these two. He suspected it was quite a bit, and he hoped the not knowing wouldn't impede them in some way. It seemed he usually knew only a small fraction of what was going on in Jack's head and he usually ended up somewhat the worse for it.

Even now, as Beckett tossed insults at Jack and Norrington, Will had the distinct impression that Jack was biding time, stalling for some purpose Will could not yet discern. He watched Jack carefully and noted that his eyes darted continuously toward the windows. Jack was expecting something.

When it happened, Will was more shocked than Beckett. The weather cleared and in a sudden splash the _Flying Dutchman_ sailed where a moment before there had been nothing. Will saw in the bow, two watery figures, and, at the wheel…his heart skipped a beat.

"Father…" his voice was a whisper, and his mind was whirling as if in a tempest. His father, free of the curse, sea creatures, seaweed, all gone. He was himself again, and he seemed fit and strong.

Will's distraction brought the attention of the others to the window, and they stared in awe or outrage at what they beheld.

"No!" Beckett screamed taking note of the _Dutchman's_ altered form. Beckett whirled around, pointing his sword at Jack.

Will stepped calmly between them. "I won't let you kill him."

"I shall kill you first, shall I?" Beckett thrust forward with his sword only to hit metal. He looked startled at his adversary.

Norrington, his blade neatly blocking Beckett's, spoke in a voice of steel. "No, you won't."

Beckett tossed aside Norrington's blade with a twist of his wrist. "I will kill you all!"

**Four blades held at the ready pointed at Beckett seemed not to lessen his confidence that he would emerge victorious. Will was surprised when a glance over Beckett's shoulder showed him the **_**Dutchman**_ **closing the distance to the **_**Endeavor**_**. His thoughts raced and skittered about. He seemed less able to control them than he'd been before Tia Dalma's odd attentions. What did the transformation mean?**

He forced himself to look at Beckett, whose eyes seemed to be transfixed on his. Will blinked and risked a glance to Norrington and Elizabeth on his left, but they continued to threaten Beckett with their weapons. Will glanced to Jack's position on his right and saw the Pirate Captain looking in his direction with an odd look on his face. It seemed half apprehensive and half chagrined. Will glanced back at Beckett and took a step back, raising his sword a bit and adjusting his grip on it. "Jack..." he whispered.

To his astonishment, Jack stepped in front of him, blocking Beckett's view of him, but also his own of Beckett. Will placed his free hand on Jack's shoulder, squeezing slightly in hopes of garnering some explanation, but when Jack spoke, it was to Beckett.

"So…Beck, that's your game. I admit, I didn't guess it right away. I thought Tia Dalma was after him on her own. She wasn't though, was she? No, too easy. I see that now. It also explains why she didn't lose interest as she usually does with men she thinks fit the bill. He would have been her leverage with you. You told her he'd be better for your purposes, didn't you? You told her he was what you needed." Jack took a menacing step forward, slipping his free hand to rest on his gun.

"Jack? What's going on?"

It was Elizabeth's voice, and Will turned to look at her. Her eyes caught his for a moment, and she looked frightened, but what of, he couldn't guess.

"Answer me!" Jack screamed the words, and Will, startled, released his hold on Jack's shoulder.

Beckett spoke calmly, as though to remind those present that he did so by his own volition and not on Jack's order. "He would suit my purposes better, Jack, but what do you know of my purposes?"

Will could hear the smile in Jack's voice and pictured it, a lopsided grin, almost a smirk. "I have my own sources. You'll not get what you thought you would." I've read this book you think you've memorized. I know what it is you think he is. You're only have right. He fulfilled the prophecy, but he won't give anything to you. See," he waved a hand out the window toward the transformed _Dutchman_. "It's already done. He's just a man now, not the potential power to change the world. The potential is spent. Jack looked pleased with himself. "If you'd read more carefully, you'd have seen that." He waved a hand dismissively. "Of course, you shouldn't feel too badly about it. I mean, not understanding that you had a limited amount of time and that, if you were planning on killing him to drain that potential power in some secret ritual designed to turn that God-Given, world altering power into a God-_Making_ power…No, you shouldn't feel bad about not being able to keep up with me…after all," he leaned slightly forward and lowered his voice as though confiding a secret. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."

Beckett laughed. His laughter went on much longer than was reasonable, but Jack never glanced away. Will shifted his stance so he could peer over Jack's shoulder. The minute Beckett could see Will, he stopped laughing, his eyes once again on Will's.

"Perhaps I shall simply take you instead, Jack. I think I'd get more out of him, but I'm sure you'll do."

"What are you talking about?" Elizabeth's voice cut through the atmosphere of the room and seemed to ground Will.

Jack spoke shifting again, to keep Will out of Beckett's line of sight. "You'll take neither of us, mate. I've already told you. It's too late. Killing either one or both of us won't make you a God, so why do it?"

"Because," he whispered calmly, reasonably, all signs of madness momentarily gone, "It will make me feel better.

"Jack," Will whispered, and Jack spoke softly, his head just slightly turned so that Will would know the Pirate was addressing him.

"If you value your hide, Will Turner, for the love of Elizabeth if nothing else, be quiet." Then he turned again facing the man before him.

Poseidon stepped forward then, appearing from nowhere, his hand, seemingly of flesh and bone one moment, became water and spray the next as the watery limb grasped Beckett's throat and raised him from the floor. In desperation, the man tried to force the deity to release him, but his own hands passed right through the water, finding nothing substantial to hold.

Poseidon leaned his face closer to Beckett's. When he spoke, the sound of his voice was soft, quiet, holding the promise of power and of might. "You have gambled everything. You have lost."

Beckett's eyes widened in fear and surprise, but he still could not speak.

The God of the Sea turned to Sparrow. "Captain Sparrow, you have upheld your end of the bargain admirably. I am a God of my word. You have what we agreed upon. It is yours.

Will could not keep silent any longer. "My father…"

Jack sighed audibly. "Can you not once do as I ask?"

"I always do as you ask."

"Not always." Jack turned to Poseidon, and Will turned with him.

"Please, sir. I mean no disrespect, but…my father…"

Poseidon looked him over and smiled, not unkindly. "Your father has his place aboard the Dutchman."

Will shook his head and unconsciously tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. Poseidon raised a hand to forestall whatever rash action the young man was considering. "Your father has his place. You have yours."

Will shook his head, a determination alight in his eyes. "I have vowed to free him of his enslavement! That has not changed even if the enslaver has!"

All hint of compassion and understanding melted from the Sea God's visage and he turned to face Will Turner. "You had best rethink your words, whelp!"

Will took a step back even as Elizabeth stepped closer, bringing her sword to bear. Norrington intercepted her as Jack prepared to intercede on Will's behalf. Poseidon waved a hand in Will's direction, his eyes unblinking and fierce.

Disoriented, Will dropped his sword and swayed slightly on his feet. Jack's strong arm supported him, and he allowed himself a moment to right himself. He nodded to Jack. "I'm all right."

Jack didn't release his hold on Will's arm, but turned back to Poseidon. "We had an accord."

"I have lived up to it." Poseidon waved out the window. Fighting had ceased. The God of the Seas locked his eyes upon Jack's. "You have what you requested. It is yours. All of it. Your young friend is free. Just teach your friend to think carefully before accusing a deity of enslaving anyone.

Jack nodded as though he understood, but Will was still in the dark. "Jack," he began, but stopped.

Jack was speaking again to Poseidon. "Are you taking him with you?" He gestured to Beckett.

Poseidon considered this. "He would cause less trouble if we did. He can live in peace at World's End."

Jack shuddered and Will was certain he was remembering the place. He recalled it too vividly himself, and he hadn't been there long at all. He couldn't imagine what Jack had gone through.

"Can't you just take the lust for power from him? Make him forget it all…" Will asked, wondering if speaking at all and thus bringing Poseidon's attention back to him was at all wise.

Poseidon seemed to admire his courage or else was amused by his "I could. But there is the agreement to consider. He made a bargain, a bet if you will, and he lost. He could not keep his part. He knew what he would have to endure if he lost."

"But…" Will began, but Jack interrupted.

"Will…let it go."

Will turned to Jack to argue, but something in the other man's eyes stopped him.

Poseidon reached out a hand to his wife and together they returned to the sea bringing a broken Beckett with them.

Will broke away from Jack and raced to the window. "Wait! My father…wait!" He called out to them, but they disappeared. He stared at the transformed _Dutchman_, which began to shimmer. Instead of submerging as it had with Davy Jones at the helm, it transformed again, this time into water as Poseidon had done. With a splash it was gone.

"Father…" Will whispered as it faded from sight.

Jack stepped over to him and placed a hand on Will's arm, and Will winced, pulling away and clasping a hand to the spot Jack had touched.

"What is it?" Jack looked concerned.

So did Elizabeth, who was by his side in a moment, trying to move the sleeve of his tattered shirt so she might examine his arm. He struggled, trying to pull away, but in doing so, the cloth was pulled back on his right arm.

What was revealed shocked both Elizabeth and Jack.

"Will!" Elizabeth sputtered with more words, but could get nothing out.

Jack gripped his friend's arm and swore.

"What is it?" Norrington asked, stepping forward.

Will, in a panic tried to hide, but Jack had too firm a grip. Will watched his friends take in the sight. The P stood out, angry red, still healing.

"He…Beckett did it while we sailed to Shipwreck Cove." The confession was difficult. It felt almost as if he expected they would believe that this made him a pirate. Almost as if he believed it himself, that this P branded on his arm might lure him to the ocean and force him to forsake all he loved. For if a blacksmith was a poor match for a Lady of Port Royal, then how much worse was a branded man?

He recalled the moment clearly, and without thinking, he began to explain it all. His voice was low, almost a whisper, and he heard the defeat and shame in it, though he could do nothing to alter that.

"It was just before we reached Shipwreck Cove, but I didn't know that at the time. I was being held in the brig…

_Beckett walked to the door and opened it a crack, whispering a word to the men who stood beyond it. When he stepped back inside, a man followed. He carried a metal bucket full of flaming hot coals…and a branding iron._

_  
Will squirmed involuntarily at the sight._

_Beckett smirked and took the handle of the iron firmly in his grasp. Will saw the flaming hot "P" and his eyes grew large as though he awaited the appearance of some thrice cursed demon from the depths of hell itself. He was a smith. He knew with a glance exactly how hot that brand was. His mind could calculate what it could do…how much hotter it needed to be to create a sword, a hinge, a horseshoe. What it could do to human flesh he did not care to discover. He had suffered burns in his career, of course, but nothing severe. How ironic that a man who worked with flame, fire, and molten steel and iron would receive a near fatal burn not at his own forge, but at the hands of a pirate._

_  
For pirate was what Beckett had to be. If he had been friends with Jack and Bootstrap Bill, and Hector Barbossa, then Pirate, or possibly Privateer, he had to be, and the distinction between the two was one of semantics, not of practice or profit._

"_Why?" He asked, as he forced himself to be still, knowing a struggle would only exacerbate the injury._

_Beckett's expression grew feral and lethal once again, and he leaned close to Will's ear, his voice soft, almost the whisper of a lover. "Because I can."_

Will was looking down. Tentatively, he brought his eyes up to Elizabeth's. Once again, though he still felt on shaky ground with her, she was all that mattered in his world. To his surprise, there was no shame, no disgust, no pity…but only love in her eyes.

"Oh, Will." She whispered and stepped into his embrace, kissing him so well that he forgot on the spot and never again remembered the Sea Goddess's affections.

Jack placed a hand on Will's shoulder and looked him in the eye the moment Elizabeth released him. "You've got two choices, Will. Live with it. Learn to hide it. Risk being hung if the wrong people see it…"

Elizabeth gasped and clung all the more tightly to him.

"Or…" Will asked.

"Or burn it off, cut if off. Mutilate that P until it cannot be recognized. Replace it with something else…"

"No!" Elizabeth screamed. "He can't! He can't go through it again!"

Will would gladly endure more than physical pain to secure her happiness and said as much. "Elizabeth…if you plan to marry me, we surely cannot marry with this on my arm. If anyone were to see it, you would be hung as well for aiding me in hiding it."

She shook her head as though his argument were irrelevant. "We still have a death sentence on us! Do you think we can return to Port Royal?"

Will shook his head. "Even if that's so, what do you propose? We cannot become pirates."

"We _are_ pirates!" Elizabeth insisted. "Beckett turned us into Pirates. He pushed us to it holding those pardons over our heads…I'm the _Pirate King_, Willl!""

Norrington cleared his throat. "I still have rank. Beckett could not have informed the Navy that I have been helping you. Without his presence, I am not without influence…"

Will shook his head. "But you cannot erase this!" He brought his arm up holding the still painful injury to Norrington's eyes. "Tell me, Admiral Norrington, if you ran across a man with a huge burn upon his wrist, would you not assume he had burned off a brand? Would you not then imprison him and try to get him to confess? And what of his family?" His voice cracked and he swallowed twice before he could continue, emotion plain in his eyes. "I will not risk Elizabeth."

"Surely that's my choice!" Elizabeth screamed. "I am willing to risk…"

"NO!" Will's vehemence silenced the room. His eyes blazed. He had endured too much, compromised too much all his life; biting his tongue against angry retorts to his social superiors, allowing himself to be called names if spoken of at all, being thought of as an apprentice even when he himself was more a blacksmith than his master had ever been, watching Elizabeth from a distance when all he wanted was to be near her, not to mention Pirates, the undead, power hungry madmen, torture, lies…he would endure more for her sake, but on matters concerning her safety he would not compromise. If he did all he had endured would be for naught.

He took a moment, turning away, looking at the sea, at where the _Dutchman_ had been, at where he'd last seen his father. His heart was in turmoil. They'd managed to defeat Beckett, unite the Pirates and deal a substantial blow to the East India Trading Company. Yet, he and Elizabeth were still fugitives. He had failed in the one mission he had consciously set out to complete when he had left Port Royal. When he had left Elizabeth in that prison…he could not risk her freedom or her life…not again. Losing her would destroy him even if she were not his to lose.

He felt a hand upon his shoulder. It trembled slightly, but then steadied as it moved to his neck. "Will…" Her voice again, a sweet whisper. "We have been through so much. There must be a way."

Will heard the heartbreak in her words, in her tone. He turned abruptly and caught her in an embrace, holding on like he would never release her. She buried her head in his shoulder, and he rocked her, refusing to open his own eyes for he was sure to do so would release tears he had held back for too long. He made soothing sounds and whispered to her of his own undying love for her. Finally, swallowing hard, he opened his eyes and looked to Jack and Norrington, who both stood watching.

_Help us._ He mouthed the words to them. He never would have asked for help for himself, but for Elizabeth's sake, he had no other recourse.

Jack nodded once and looked to Norrington. "What about it, Norrington? Shall we put our heads together and see what we can come up with?"

Norrington nodded and looked Will in the eye much as he had when Will had saved Jack from the hangman's noose and Norrington had remarked what a fine sword he had forged. "You have my word, Will Turner. I will see this set right."

"As will I."

The voice was not Jack's. Familiar, yet not so, it silenced them all as effectively as Will's earlier shout. All four turned as one to face the door to the cabin. There, in the doorway stood…

"Father!" Will called, grasping Elizabeth's hand unwilling even now to be parted from her. He hugged the older man fiercely, making up for years in the one gesture. "How…when…"

Bootstrap shook his head, hugging his son, but speaking to Jack. "There's been a cease fire. The _Endeavor_ has agreed to allow the Pirates to leave the vicinity. The _Pearl_ is out there, but Barbossa is unable to weigh anchor."

Jack grinned. "As it should be." He turned to Norrington. "If you don't mind—and even if you do—I'll be taking the lovebirds with me. No offence, but it's best none of your men see the brand until something can be done about it."

Norrington nodded. "Where shall we meet to make our plans?" He looked to Bootstrap. "And to hear what tales we haven't yet shared with each other."

"We'll wait it out here. It won't take long for the Brethren to get under way. Stick around, Admiral, and we'll parley before the hour is up." Jack moved toward the exit.

Elizabeth moved to Norrington's side. "Thank you, James. For everything."

He smiled wryly. "I haven't done everything, but I'm sure we'll get around to it."

She returned the smile, and gave him a small kiss on the cheek before departing with Will, Jack, and Bootstrap.

To Be Continued…


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing to have some fun!

Please please please read and review. (Not that I'm desperate for feedback or anything!)

Beyond World's End

By Ecri

Chapter 10

Aboard the Pearl, Jack glared at Barbossa. "Trying to make way with my ship?"

"My ship!" Barbossa snarled.

"This ship is now enchanted…courtesy of Poseidon himself. It's mine down to the last splinter and bottle of rum." He turned to Gibbs. "Stay put. We've got a conference to attend."

"Aye," replied a confused Gibbs.

Jack moved toward his cabin with Bootstrap, Elizabeth, and Will trailing after him. Once inside he closed and locked the door and guided Will to a seat. Bringing out bandages and rum, he began to tend Will's wounds. Before either Will or Elizabeth could ask he did what he'd rarely done in his life. He explained himself.

"In the Locker, Poseidon came to me. I thought it was madness. I'd been talking to myself for so long I couldn't remember having someone else to talk to. Eventually he convinced me." He paused in consideration. "I think he gave me back a bit of sanity. Reminded me of a few things. Anyway, he said he would help me if I helped him. He wanted Beckett, and he wanted Tia Dalma—whatever he wanted with her—but wanted…Will Turner to do it."

"What? Me?"

"You're the man of the prophecy. There's a pirate prophecy…a man born to pirates but turning his back on piracy will one day be drawn to the sea and in his search for his heart's desire will reignite pirates and other denizens of the sea to their own true purpose."

"That's vague." Will sounded skeptical as he usually did with Jack.

"Prophecies usually are, mate."

"Wait," Elizabeth insisted. "Why Will?"

Jack shrugged. "Poseidon said it had all been set in motion ages ago, and that Will was the culmination of it all. Only a good man could find a noble reason to end Davy Jones' life. Only a good man could kill that demon and remain a good man. Only a good man could put the Flying Dutchman back to its purpose, unite the pirates, and defeat Beckett's search for omnipotence."

"But I didn't do any of that."

Jack smiled. "Yet you still fulfilled the prophecy."

"How did I do that?"

Bootstrap spoke. "I couldn't let you die for me, Will. I couldn't let you die at all. I haven't been the best father in the world, but I wasn't going to sit back and let someone else…especially Jones…deny you your life."

"To save my life." His eyes betrayed his sorrow. "You died for me."

Bootstrap nodded. "I'd do anything for you, Will."

"You were what set it all in motion. For the purity of your love for Elizabeth. She became Pirate King…because I found a reason to vote for her. Likely wouldn't have if I'd never met you. As for Beck, well, He thought if he killed the man of the prophecy in a bizarre ritual it would bring him immortality and power only a God could wield. He read the book wrong."

Jack wouldn't elaborate on what the book said. "It's the carrying and the reading of that book what damaged my sanity to begin with."

Elizabeth squeezed Will's hand, and Will looked away. She turned to Jack. "What was that business with Tia Dalma and …her hand on his chest…the pain…"

"Tia Dalma knew from the moment she met Will that he was the fulfillment of the prophecy. The pain…well, she performed some ritual or other to bind him to her. She did the same to me once. She was going to defy the prophecy at Beckett's urging." He sighed. "Beck wanted immortality. He'd tried to pay Tia Dalma off once with me as the payment in order to buy immortality from her. She told him that I was the one to fulfill the prophecy because that's the way she is. She was trying to find ways to double cross him."

"So…binding me to her…achieved what exactly?"

"Kept Beckett from killing you without her knowledge. She'd have known if he'd tried, and she was hoping to steal you from him. As he read it, if he'd killed you, with the proper rituals of course, he'd have been immortal. If she'd managed it, you'd have been her lover. She'd have kept you with her all her days…or until she got tired of you."

Will shuddered. "What would she have done with me then?"

Jack shrugged. "No idea, mate."

"What did Poseidon mean?" Elizabeth asked. "Poseidon said he was free. Of what exactly?

"He's free. Nothing of the sea can harm him. He'd fulfilled his destiny. The rest of his life is his own. That's their gift to him."

"And you?" Elizabeth asked, a smirk on her face. "What did you get out of this? Surely you asked for something."

Jack hesitated, and when he answered Elizabeth was certain he wasn't telling them everything. "I asked for the _Pearl._ She's mine. She won't sail for anyone else. I can't be mutinied again!"

Jack cleared his throat. "If you're quite finished asking stupid questions, I'd like to sort that bandage." He gestured to a loose end flapping freely from Will's arm, and the Blacksmith turned back to him and allowed his ministrations. When Jack finished bandaging the burn, he checked Will for broken bones. "You're a lucky one, Will Turner. No broken ribs. Bruised, painful, yes, but not broken."

"He's feverish." Elizabeth's worry had not diminished.

"I'll be fine, Elizabeth."

"You will _rest,_ Will. Until we've met with Norrington, there's nothing but bed rest for you."

Will looked imploringly at Jack, who laughed. "Get used to it, mate. It will only get worse once you're married."

**

Norrington watched the skyline for signs of the _Black Pearl._ Sparrow had insisted that he'd find the _Endeavor_, and James had no call not to believe him. Odd that he seemed able to trust the Pirate now, yet that has seemed so impossible a task not so long ago.

He considered Will and Elizabeth's predicament. What could truly be done for them? He could take them in. Return to England with them ostensibly as his prisoners only to plead their case himself. Of course, if none would take his word, Elizabeth and Will would be hanged. He found himself unwilling to risk it and was shocked to discover it wasn't only for Elizabeth's sake. Will Turner.

How had Will Turner become a man he could admire?

He shook his head at his own stupidity. The truth was, Turner had always been admirable, but Norrington had been unwilling. Turner was a rival for Elizabeth's affections, and, worse, he was a far nobler man than Norrington himself.

He was chagrined to admit that he was actually considering advising them to remain pirates. Certainly the pirates accepted then more easily than did polite society. Elizabeth was, after all, the Pirate King.

He shook his head. He knew Turner wouldn't accept that, and he doubted Elizabeth would want to start a family on the high seas. There had to be a way to procure pardons for the couple. He wondered if any of Governor Swann's contacts might prove useful.

The Governor was attempting to build a network of people who might owe him favors, but Norrington had no idea how far along that had come. He knew Swann had long envisioned his daughter returning to life in London, but he doubted Elizabeth would ever wish that for herself. She was one English Rose that had bloomed beyond recognition in the sunny Caribbean.

He reviewed his own list of contacts, recalling them all and where they stood in the grand scheme of London's politics. One might be of help, but would that one be willing?

**

The _Black Pearl_ cut through the water with a speed it should not have been able to reach. Since her encounter with the God and Goddess of the Sea, she'd taken on an enchanted quality; her deck was in good repair, and any cracks or other damages she'd sustained in the battle with Cutler Beckett's forces was minimal and easily repaired.

Captain Jack Sparrow knew it was likely his imagination, but The _Pearl_ seemed to sail straighter, prouder, and responded more easily to his commands almost as though she anticipated her master's desires. The euphoria this brought about was short lived. Sparrow's concern now was for Will and Elizabeth. Will's injuries were serious, especially the brand. He cursed Cutler Beckett with every ounce of venom in his possession, and Captain Jack Sparrow possessed more than his share of venom especially against those who had hurt his friends.

His other cause of concern was how he might help the pair regain their places in Port Royal or London society. Will was on his own as far as being a blacksmith and marrying above his station, but Jack had promised the pair that he'd see them pardoned. He wasn't sure how to bring that about. He'd though of pleading with Poseidon for help, but this seemed out of his purview.

Of course, perhaps Poseidon knew of some other deity or demi-deity that might be feeling particularly beneficent, but somehow Jack was unwilling to call upon additional supernatural forces. Poseidon had been right. It hadn't been part of the deal that he himself be permitted to maintain his human life. The Locker had been the first step back to the supernatural. His flirtations with Tia Dalma and his possession of Poseidon's book had been a way to hold onto the otherworldly when he himself was unaware why he might need to hold onto anything supernatural. The truth was it was his nature. Deities and demi-deities supernatural beings…it was real. Of course he'd been peripherally aware of it. He'd run afoul of the supernatural forces most of his life.

The only difference now was that he understood why. He pondered immortality and the questions Elizabeth had asked him. What had he gotten out of it? Would she have believed him if he'd told her everything? He was sure she wouldn't have. She was a pirate by nature: distrustful, suspicious, calculating. And yet, there was more to Elizabeth Swann. She was a Pirate King by his own vote, and she certainly wouldn't have been convinced to vote for anyone other than herself. Very Pirate-like behavior. Yet, for all her piratical ways, she was doing what she was doing to save herself and Will Turner. That was the rub. That was the one thing that saved her from being a soulless scallywag like Barbossa, Sao Feng, or even Cutler Beckett. They were interested only in helping themselves.

Now, Will Turner was another matter. Jack smiled as he considered the earnest words and determined eyes of the boy who'd come to him in a Port Royal prison to beg his help. He was certain he could turn the boy into a pirate. Will did what was necessary. For him, the end justified the means…sometimes…and if saving his ladylove meant committing an act of piracy, he'd do it with minimal hesitation. But hesitate he would. Jack was equally certain that if Elizabeth wanted—really desired—a life of piracy, Will Turner would turn his back on his trade, his dreams, and his desires to be sure all of Elizabeth's were fulfilled.

He shook his head. Not at all Pirate-like behavior.

Jack couldn't help but wonder how Bootstrap was. He'd seen the ship disappear below the water line, but he believed his old mate was nearby, shadowing them until he was certain his boy would be well. It was Bootstrap's weakness…his son. Always was. Not that Jack had ever considered it a weakness, but it was a vulnerability, and it was one Jack shared.

His thoughts raced around themselves like a dog after his own tail as he wondered what he could do. If worse came to worse, he could insist the Pirate King take her…eunuch…and live it up on the high seas. There were worse lives, and both Will and Elizabeth seemed to have taken to it well enough. Being Pirate King suited the girl, and he'd seen the whelp come alive as the salt spray hit him and the deck rolled beneath his feet.

He still thought their best bet was to mutilate the brand. If they waited until it healed, it could be done relatively easily. Not painlessly, of course, and that was something Elizabeth wouldn't permit, though Jack knew Will would do it anyway if faced with no options. The lad was still single-minded in his desire to protect his Elizabeth.

He scowled and threw himself back in his seat, eyes roving around the room as though the solutions he sought could be found among the bric-a-brac a crazed pirate had collected over the course of his career.

And of course it was.

**

Will had slept fitfully awakening often and always to find Elizabeth by his side offering water to drink or a cool cloth for his head. Now, Will had barely opened his eyes when he felt the cool wetness once more. He reached up a hand and caught Elizabeth's wrist. "Elizabeth…" He whispered.

"Will, you should rest."

"I've rested." He sat up, his eyes clear and alert, and his hand still holding Elizabeth's wrist. "We should talk."

"About what?"

"I love you, Elizabeth."

Her eyes softened and she smiled at him. "And I love you, Will."

"But do we have a future together…assuming we can obtain our pardons, Elizabeth…I've never been unsure of my love for you, or yours for me, but is there something else you love more?"

"Will, how can you ask?" Her distress was obvious, and Will cursed himself for causing it.

"I ask because of my father. He loved me, and my mother, yet he could not stay with us. Elizabeth, where does your heart lie?" When she didn't answer, he loosened his grip on her wrist, dropping his own hand into his lap. "Is it Jack?"

"NO! Will, I love you! I've always loved you! There has never been anyone else I've ever wanted to share my life with!"

"Yes, but what life? Port Royal? Pirate King? London?" Will sighed and forced himself to look into her eyes regardless of his fear of what he'd see there. His voice dropped to the insecure whisper he'd used with her before the undead had become such a fixture in their lives and he cursed himself for allowing the insecurities to show. "Assuming I can resume my trade, would you be content being a blacksmith's wife?"

"Only if the blacksmith is you." Elizabeth's eyes locked onto his and the love he saw stole his breath away.

He reached for her then, and the pair kissed, overbalancing and falling backwards onto the bed. Their long separation and the overwhelming relief at being once again in each other's arms drove out any thought of impropriety that might once have overwhelmed Will Turner, but to his chagrin, she pulled away from him.

"Will! You're feverish!"

He blinked as he realized she spoke not of passion but of health. "I will be well, Elizabeth."

"Yes, but you must rest, Will. I'll get you something to drink." She was off in an instant, and Will could not help but feel something other than his health had driven her once more from his arms.

**

While Elizabeth busied herself finding water for Will, she promised herself that she would not permit him to endanger himself once again. He was her priority. She saw doubt in his eyes and she knew she had put it there somehow. She had hurt him. He had believed she was in love with Jack, and if he had convinced himself to believe her when she professed her love for him and not the Pirate Captain, he still doubted her commitment to him. She was Pirate King after all, and with such a bizarre set of circumstances, perhaps he could not believe that she would give such a thing up. Not that it really meant anything, of course. Even as Pirate King, she had only a modicum of influence over the other pirates. Any desire they had to follow her own orders had expired when divine intervention had taken Cutler Beckett away. She was a King in name only.

She knew Will's concern was that she had tasted the freedom of piracy and would be unable to give it up. The truth was, she had had enough of piracy. It wasn't romantic or exciting, and it had jeopardized the only life she had ever chosen for herself: a life with Will Turner.

Truly, now that the imminent danger was over, she longed for Port Royal. She wondered at the change in her desires and could not help but see it as a remnant of the prophecy. Perhaps for the Pirate prophecy to be fulfilled, Will had to lose his heart to a woman infatuated with the life of a pirate. Perhaps it was that early childhood obsession—spurred into existence by a lonely little girl missing her mother and looking for a distraction because she was bound to take a long sea voyage—that had set in motion the events that had culminated in Bootstrap Bill Turner taking the life of Davy Jones.

She found the water and turned back towards the room where she'd left Will. Her thoughts drifted back over the last few years, and she found she now had a longing for the life she'd lost. For her life as the Governor's Daughter…a life she could never really have again. With her father gone, what role could she play in Port Royal Society?

The answer was obvious. She could be the Blacksmith's wife. She had only to convince the Blacksmith that this was indeed all that she desired.

To Be Continued


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing to have some fun!

Author's note: I know very little about the British Monarchy at the time that this story takes place. Indeed, I find the timeframe itself (from the film) a bit confusing, so I've always believed it best to think of it as an alternate universe, parallel reality…that sort of thing. If you have something constructive to tell me about Lords and Ladies, I'm willing to hear it, but remember that in this story it's all the same as technobabble in a scifi story.

Beyond World's End

By Ecri

Chapter 11

The London skyline seemed grayer than usual as the light drizzle dampened both more than spirits. Few walked the cobbled streets and fewer still opened a shutter to view the dismal day. The occupant of the only carriage braving the elements had thoughts to match his surroundings, though his surroundings had not even begun to invade them. With a bellow and a knock upon the carriage roof, he urged the driver to hurry not caring how the man should take such urging.

The driver increased his speed almost imperceptibly unwilling to risk his horses on the slippery stones to satisfy the Lord he escorted. In moments, they reached their destination, and the driver halted the carriage, hopped down to the street, and held the door open.

He got nary a nod nor word of thanks from the preoccupied man, and the driver counted himself lucky that he was merely a hired driver and not in the man's full time employ. To be fair, the Lord's preoccupation was the cause of his perceived rudeness. He was generally believed to be one of the more civil members of London Society.

Removing his wet cloak and hat, he handed them off to the servant who'd approached for just that purpose and hurried through the impressive old building until he reached the anteroom he sought.

His calling card was handed to the appropriate people and in moments, he had the audience he sought.

"My Lord," he called in greeting as he entered to find a jovial looking gentleman seated behind an impressive old heirloom of a desk. The other man scratched away for a moment upon a piece of paper before looking up at his visitor.

"Ah, Jonathan! I'm so glad you could stop by so soon!"

The younger man shook his head impatiently. "I'm afraid this is no social call. I am hoping you would be willing to assist my family in a small matter."

The older man frowned. Whenever the young lord referred to "small matters" it was generally something of unspeakable importance to him.

"What is it, Jonathan?"

"My brother has written to me requesting a favor."

"James? I thought he'd moved to the Carribean and changed his name?"

"Well, in a manner of speaking. He joined the Navy and changed the spelling and pronunciation of his name so as not to trade on the fame of our father…"

The older man laughed. "And he now finds himself in a predicament that the youthful pride which made that decision could not have predicted!"

Jonathan, Lord Norinton nodded. "Yes, well, he has succeeded to the rank of Admiral for himself. He needs no help for his own sake. It's for a pair of friends of his who seem to have run afoul of Cutler Beckett…"

The older man's joviality turned to a scowl. "Don't mention the braggart to me, Jonathan! I'd rather hear nothing of him for the rest of my days!"

Jonathan smiled. "Even to hear that he is quite undone?"

Lord Marbury's eyes widened and his smile returned. "Do tell?"

"I'm afraid I have few details. The point my brother has tried to make is that a friend of his, his former fiancée if I have that right, and her current fiancé have been falsely—or at least hastily—accused of things…well, Jonathan goes on for several pages about nobility of character, and depth of loyalty.."

"Whoever are these friends?"

"Daughter of the Governor of Port Royal and her Blacksmith fiancé…"

"Well, for your youngest brother, Jonathan, let's see what we can do!"

**

Will Turner had recovered from most of his injuries. He believed the salt sea air and the Caribbean sun had hastened his recuperation, but the presence of his Elizabeth had done even more. They'd been aboard the Black Pearl for weeks now, healing and learning what had happened to each other when they'd been separated. Jack had expertly kept the ship away from any vessels other than Norrington's. The Admiral had promised his support in finding a way to pardon the couple, and had sailed off, presumably to find some way to keep his promise.

Before he had departed, Will had cornered the man. "I need to thank you."

Norrington looked nonplussed at the admission, but Will had persisted. "You've looked after Elizabeth when I could not. You kept her safe aboard Sao Feng's ship…"

Norrington had raised a hand. "You exaggerate my importance. Elizabeth can look after herself."

Will smiled. "She can, but that does not lessen what you did for her. Even a Pirate King needs someone she can trust in her corner she can trust."

Norrington looked away. "I don't know how much she trusted me."

"At first, perhaps, but you cannot pretend that you were not a help to her."

"Do not imagine that you are the only man who loves Elizabeth." He looked Will Turner in the eye. "But of course, the best man won."

Will had not known what to say to such a comment. Norrington and he had never been friends. They were rivals for Elizabeth's affections. Norrington was logically perceived by society to be the smart match for a woman of Elizabeth's position. That he could stand there and look a blacksmith born of pirate blood in the eye and call him the better man was not something Will ever would have imagined. Will had smiled genuinely at the older man and held out his hand. Norrington shook it. All animosity that had ever existed between them had been expunged by their circumstances and their mutual respect.

Now thinking back on it, Will was still surprised by it all. He had never imagined Norrington would see him as anything more than a nuisance and an embarrassment.

After the Admiral's departure, Will had sought out Elizabeth. He was strong now, healed and recovered from his ordeal, and Elizabeth's objections that he needed rest would no longer keep them from discussing all that had happened between them. They needed to talk about all they had been through and all they might yet endure.

He had found her sitting on deck still clad in pants and pirate boots, her shirt not remotely revealing the lithe, feminine figure beneath. Yet still, she took his breath away.

"Elizabeth." He whispered her name, but she turned, startled as though it had been a shout.

"Will, what are you doing up?"

He laughed. "I am quite well, Elizabeth. There is no longer any reason we should not talk."

"What do you mean?" Her nervousness brought her to her feet and she attempted to step past him, but he caught her wrist and stepped closer to her.

"You know what I mean, Elizabeth. Why have you been avoiding this? Is it because…" he swallowed hard, almost unable to utter the words. "Would you prefer not to marry me?"

"What? NO! Will, how can you say such a thing? After all we've…"

"Tell me that's not the only reason you're going through with marrying me?" He spoke softly, but the plea in his voice cut through her protests like a knife through softened butter.

"No." She spoke more softly now, and was shaking her head. "Of course that's not why I want to marry you. I love you, Will? I have never dreamed of any life that did not include you."

He smiled and reached a hand out to touch her face.

"Oh, Will! I do love you! More than you can ever know!"

"I love you, too Elizabeth, but if we are doomed because of this…" he gestured to Cutler Beckett's brand upon his arm. "I cannot endanger your life with it!"

"We have not even begun to find ways around it, Will! James had some plan before he left. I recognized the look in his eyes. Do not discount him yet. Give him a chance." She reached a hand up and caught his as he drew it back from her face pressing it there…then turning to kiss his palm. "And if he fails, we will not be parted! I won't permit that. Nothing will stand between us being married, If we must, Norrington or Jack will marry us and we will stay aboard the Pearl…"

"As pirates!" Will fairly spat the word.

"I know how you feel about pirates, but surely you can consider Jack and the crew of the Pearl to be friends."

"I want to, Elizabeth, but....we would spend our lives running from the law. We would be hunted by every legitimate government in existence. And if we were ever caught we would be hung. Is that the life you'd share with our children?"

Elizabeth looked surprised. "Children?"

"Did you not want to have children?" Will tried to hide his own surprise.

"I…of course…"

"Elizabeth, Jack's jokes aside, you know I'm not a eunuch, don't you?"

Elizabeth laughed and kissed him in reply. "I suppose for the sake of the children…we'll have to get that pardon."

Will and Elizabeth had spent more and more time together as the days passed. They discussed everything, imparted all secrets they'd ever kept and learned more about each other than either could have imagined. Will treasured these days, and now, with Elizabeth by his side, he could not help but feel giddy over the possibilities. They were living in a sort of safe haven. They had not yet found Norrington again, so the weeks and months that passed were a sort of blissful limbo. They were not ignoring their problem, just unable to do anything about it at the moment. The longer the moment lasted with no ill news from Norrington, they longer they could pretend all was well. He reached for Elizabeth and kissed her noting how eagerly she returned the favor.

**

There was a ship on he horizon. It moved swiftly and smoothly through the blue-green waters, its sails stark white against the bright sky.

Captain Jack Sparrow kept it in his line of sight, ready to run away or straight at it as the situation dictated. He noted the hushed whispers of the crew as they tried to guess what he was going to do, and he suppressed a half smile. They'd never guess when he himself could not.

He would gladly take the ship if it proved the weaker of the two vessels, but he had vowed to keep Will and Elizabeth safe, and that he would do. It was as the other ship pulled even with the Pearl that a rumble in the water identified another vessel approaching, but from a different direction. In a moment, the Flying Dutchman bobbed upon the waves having risen from the depths at the same instant that the _Endeavor_ drew near.

Jack hailed both ships, noting Norrington standing there looking almost cheerful…for Norrington anyway.

It took little time for the Admiral to make his way to the _Pearl_. He'd kept his boarding party minimal…just himself…and for that, Jack was grateful. He wasn't exactly comfortable consorting with the British Navy and likely never would be.

"I have news." Norrington announced.

"Then, by all means, let's get to it," Jack replied, gesturing for the Admiral to follow him.

**

Will and Elizabeth held fast to each other each lost in kisses, laughter, and whispered words when the sound of a throat clearing brought them up short and they both turned wide eyes toward the door.

There stood Captain Jack Sparrow, smirking at the couple. "I see. Not a eunuch after all." He swaggered into the cabin, Norrington on his heels, the Admiral suppressing a smile of his own at Will and Elizabeth's discomfiture. The pair righted themselves, tugging self-consciously at clothing to straighten imaginary rumples.

"Norrington has news." Sparrow declared, and all eyes fell on the Admiral.

"Yes, well, I have sent off letters about your situation, and have gotten a reply. The short of it is you're pardoned. My family has managed to come through for us.

Elizabeth clasped Will's hand staring at Norrington. "That's wonderful! Are you sure they're legitimate?"

"Oh, yes. All is in order."

"Will! We're free!"

Will stared at Norrington. "And what of this?" He held up his arm, revealing a bandage, though all knew what it hid. "Are we truly free?" He turned to Sparrow. "Jack…you have to burn it…cut it, something!"

"No!" Elizabeth squeezed Will's hand in both of hers. "Will, you can't! The Admiral agrees that even the mutilation of the mark does not insure our freedom…"

"If I cut out the scar tissue…"

"No," Elizabeth whispered, her eyes imploring James Norrington to bring the pair to their senses.

Norrington spoke. "Perhaps it's the most expedient means of dealing with it, Elizabeth."

"But if it won't guarantee anything, why put Will through it?"

Jack stepped closer to the tearful Pirate King. "Because it does somewhat improve his odds of slipping through life unhassled and unharried. Thereby increasing your odds of doing the same. It's the only solution, love." He stepped back again, and his hand covered his pocket, patting it protectively. "Besides, I think I will be able to do more about this that we'd thought."

**

Will had felt pain in varying degrees all his life. Before he had mastered the blacksmith craft, he had had his share of burns. After being abducted by pirates and the undead, he'd suffered his share of beatings, whippings, and other atrocities. The pain he suffered now as Jack cut out the scar tissue on his arm somehow surpassed all these pains, and yet, it did not come close to the pain he'd felt when Elizabeth had first been abducted by Barbossa, nor the pain he'd felt when he'd left her in a Port Royal prison as he'd set out to search for Jack Sparrow. For her, he could endure this and more.

He had insisted that Elizabeth not be present. He could not bear both the pain and the fear in her eyes. He now thought perhaps that was selfish of him, and he should have permitted her to stay.

His father, Norrington, and Jack were present. Norrington held fast to his shoulders, keeping him steady no matter how bad the pain became. His father held the unmarked arm and sat upon his legs to keep him from involuntarily kicking out and perhaps distracting Jack from his task/

Jack wielded his knife with skill and it being the enchanted knife of a God gave everyone hope that all would be well. Jack had begun by mumbling a few words, and eventually, Will realized they were a prayer or plea of some sort. When Jack had finished, he'd wrapped the arm again, and told Will not to remove the bandage himself. Jack would do that when the time was right.

The time was not right for a full week, Jack changed the bandages often, but would let no one see his handiwork. Exactly one week from the time he'd carved out the burn, he revealed the arm to Elizabeth, Will, Bootstrap and Norrington.

Will marveled at the smooth skin. There was a slight bump, a raised line, but it looked nothing like he'd imagined.

"How did you do that?"

Jack smiled. "I'm Ca…

"Captain Jack Sparrow!" They'd all said it together ignoring Jack's indignation that they'd ruined his joke.

Elizabeth's eyes narrowed as she stared intently at the kohl-rimmed eyes. "What you've done is impossible, Jack Sparrow." She crossed her arms and walked toward the man. "How could you possibly have done that? And those prayers you were saying while you did it…what was that, Captain Jack Sparrow?"

Jack returned her stare for a millisecond, but then began to speak quickly as though the more syllables he could utter in a single breath the more his words would be believed. "I don't know what you're going on about. I did what had to be done. It was best…" as he continued to speak, his words conveying little actual meaning, he sashayed about the cabin, putting the bandages away, slipping things into drawers, moving items seemingly at random from one spot to another. When finally he stopped, a grin firmly in place, he found the others standing still and staring at him.

He exhaled in defeat and flopped himself down in his chair. "All right." He whispered. "I'll tell you, shall I?" He gestured with a wildly flailing wrist to his surroundings, but it was only the words that followed that told his audience his gesture was meant to encompass more than just the contents of the cabin. "It's all a lie. Hardly surprising my life should be a lie…but I'm not what I seem to be."

A puzzled look crossed his face and he looked up at each of them. "What do I seem to be?"

"A drunk," said Elizabeth.

"A Pirate," said Norrington and Bootstrap together.

"A good man," Will insisted.

Jack smiled. For Will to admit that after all they'd been through was more of a shock than he cared to admit. Somewhere in all of this backstabbing, Will had found a way to accept that a person could be both a Pirate and a Good Man. How much further could he press the younger man's incredulity?

"Ah, well, you're all right, but you're all wrong, aren't you?" He sighed once and stood. "I'm all of that, yet none of it. I'm what some might call a minor deity. My father is Nemesis, God of Vengeance. My mother is Alecto, one of the Erinnyes." He saw only Norrington and Elizabeth understood him. "Ah, the powers of a formal education!" He sat upon the desk. Crossed his arms, and all trace of instability, in mental and physical, disappeared. "All you need to know is the lineage lends itself to insanity and extreme behavior. My parents are predisposed to be unforgiving. When I angered them, they banished me. Made me a bit crazy, and left me to fend for myself. Poseidon took a liking to me so made sure I had a love of the sea so I'd be near enough for him to keep an eye on me. Sent those sea turtles to help me out more than once…"

"Sea turtles…you said you hitched a ride with rum runners!" Elizabeth's indignation and confusion warred to make sense of the senseless.

"I said a lot of things, love. Truth is, some of it was truer than I knew. I didn't have all the pieces until Poseidon found me in the Locker." He gestured to the knife with the symbol for immortality that had belonged to the God of the Sea. "He left that behind for me knowing it could help Will. Poseidon claimed my parents regretted their banishment. They'd helped him with defeating Beckett. Made him a bit more bonkers than he was. Made him slip up." He shrugged. "Truth is, I like my life. I'd bargained with Poseidon in the Locker. He would make sure the _Black Pearl _was mine and mine alone. I would return with him for a time and explain things to mum and dad." He smiled and winked a familiar glint in his eye that matched the glint in his gold teeth.

Elizabeth nodded. "You didn't intend to keep that part of the bargain."

Jack's smile broadened. "Pirate."

"Won't they come for you?" Will asked.

"Maybe…one day. When they have nothing better to do."

So…now…" Elizabeth began.

Jack clapped his hands together, rubbing them vigorously. "Now…we plan a wedding, Love…and we head for that horizon."

The End


End file.
